Sunday Soundtrack - "My God - it's full of stars!"

In honour of the Pluto mission this week and the awe-inspiring photographs from the outer reaches of the Solar System, we are revisiting '2001: A Space Odyssey' and Kubrik's inspired pairing of classical music with space-age action.

From the dramatic opening fanfare from Richard Strauss' 'Also Sprach Zarathustra' to the visceral keening of Ligeti's 'Requiem', the pared-down visuals and the music combine to convey the immensity of space.

Given the close collaboration of Arthur C Clarke in the film-making process - a man who must have known his science fiction classics - I wonder whether it is not too fanciful to assume that somewhere behind at least one selection is the 1956 short story 'A Work of Art' by James Blish, in which Richard Strauss is brought back to life in the distant future and invited to compose works on the themes of space-flight and time travel.

Another, unrelated, Strauss is responsible for perhaps the most hypnotic sequence in the film; I invite you to sit back and enjoy 'An der Schönen Blauen Donau' in a context its composer could never have imagined.




link

Incoming!

Another opportunity this week to indulge in a favourite pastime; it seems someone forgot to put on the handbrake of a Russian spacecraft and, as it begins its slow but inexorable descent - currently predicted (for the UK, at least) to end in the early hours of 9th May (+ 48 hours) - those inclined can enjoy speculating where it would do the most good, should it arrive down here as an assortment of red-hot fragments.

In general, I try to be well-disposed towards my fellow man, but I have to admit there are several people I should be very happy to see on the receiving end. Actually, I like to envisage an asteroid strike which, unaccountably, finds them all gathered together in the impact zone, but I'd settle for some Russian space junk in the meantime.

Once the MSM get hold of it, this will doubtless lead to a repeat of the speculation which, during the 6.5-tonne UARS satellite's decaying orbit, led to entertaining headlines like 'Britain in path of falling satellite' - an assertion owing rather more to dramatic effect than to accuracy.

Though there has been little time for posting recently, we have been diligently drinking to the near-Earth asteroids of the past few weeks - including the house-sized 2015 HD10 passing by at 627,000km today - and keeping an eye on the treasure hunt that has resulted from Sunday night's Irish fireball.

Over the next few days though, we'll mostly be following the runaway space freighter's orbital path and current altitude at Satflare, where the tracking display proves strangely hypnotic.


4/5/15 Update: New estimate:  Fri, 08/05/2015 19:26:00 +/- 24 hours UTC

Asteroid round-up

As regulars are well aware, an asteroid fly-by always calls for a drink. 

That being so, we have been in something of a celebratory mood for the past few days, what with 2014 BA3 and 20134 BP8 on Sunday - at 2.3 million and 1.4 million km respectively - followed by Wednesday's 2014 BK25 at 1.2 million km and 2014 BM25 at a bit over a million.

And it goes on: next Monday gives us 2014 BW32, at a mere 730,000km and, to make matters even more exciting, while those others are somewhere around 10-15m wide, this one could be up to 37m across, getting on for the size of the one that caused the Tunguska airburst in 1908. 

If it were to hit us, the results could be catastrophic. The devastation seen at the Siberian site when the first expedition arrived there (in 1927, which suggests a certain lack of urgency) shows the force of the explosion on the ground. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? You bet!

It's all a lot of numbers, I know - don't you long for the old days, when you knew your asteroid by name? - but it's worth pointing out that the 2014 prefix means these have all been identified this year; it just shows what can be done once the need is recognized. Eagle-eyed asteroid spotters, both human and machine, are clocking up sightings at an unprecedented rate.

Apart from having a noticeable effect on the Tavern's drinks bill, this painstaking labelling of everything hurtling around our neighbourhood clearly shows just how busy it is out there. Every week this year has brought us at least one within 10 Lunar Distances, most of them discovered only a few days or even hours before their closest approach.

The majority, of course, are mere tiddlers by asteroid standards, with  no room to swing a space slug, and there are probably thousands more of them out there. In fact, given the way the Chelyabinsk meteor came out of the blue, it's hardly surprising that a large number of fireballs are recorded annually as rocks up to 2m in diameter burn up in the atmosphere - and that's just the ones that appear over inhabited areas.

In the face of the cosmic pinball going on around us and the certainty that, one day, the big one will arrive , the only sensible attitude is a degree of fatalism. At least we know it's random -   if fire from heaven were truly a manifestation of divine displeasure, Celebrity Big Brother would surely have elicited a bolt from the blue by now.

Meanwhile, though this weekend - as far as NASA are aware, at least - will not bring a close flyby, I invite you to raise a glass to this week's crop of space rocks and to those currently whistling past us but as yet unknown.

ISON is off

I have a confession to make.

Rather than watching with bated breath as Comet ISON grazed the sun on Thursday, I sloped off to the cinema. There are few films that would tempt me to sample the delights of our local flea-pit - it's always too loud and I hate the smell of popcorn - but 'Gravity' in 3D was one.

The Stigler also saw it this week and describes its impact with admirable clarity so I'll say only that the 3D immersive experience is breathtaking and that, given the large pizza I had eaten beforehand and the vertigo-inducing perspective, I was extremely glad it it wasn't 'The Perfect Storm'.

(As a short aside, the backs of the premium seats are so high that customers under 5'8" are advised to sit only in the front row of the section; it's an interesting business strategy that potentially inconveniences a significant proportion of the female cinema-going public (though, by way of compensation, the front row is definitely the best place to enjoy the bit where it looks as if George Clooney is about to land in your lap)).

However, it now appears that ISON, having attempted its solar flyby without my supervision, is now a fragmentary shadow of its former self. Oh dear! I feel somehow responsible; I should have looked after it properly.

Still, there is some more positive news; while ISON was frying and I was in the cinema, a bunch of astronomers at Mount Lemmon were busy documenting the passage of 2013 WH25, a truck-sized asteroid detected only a few hours before its closest approach to Earth, a mere 133,500 km away.

It's an indication of the number of the things spotted this year that there has been no squeak of news coverage, though I don't think that we should let the increased frequency affect the Tavern's practice of drinking to each and every one of them as it passes.

Though a day late - yesterday was far too busy for blogging - I invite you to raise a glass tonight in honour of 2013 WH25.

Cheers!

Comet ISON

While the asteroid close approach register is offering thin pickings for the next few months, we are about to be treated to the spectacle of comet ISON's approach to the sun.

While I had this in draft, Julia sent a comment - thanks! - to the effect that the BBC are getting excited about it but, for dedicated footage, you can watch NASA's footage of the 'Thanksgiving Flyby' at space.com here from 6pm to 8.30pm tonight.

http://www.space.com/17933-nasa-television-webcasts-live-space-tv.html

Cosmic roulette

No sooner do we hear that TV135 has been downgraded to 0 on the Torino scale - something that would embarrass the writers behind such headlines as 'Asteroid will hit Earth in 2032', were tabloid journalists capable of feeling shame - than we are alerted to a satellite falling from orbit this weekend.

The experts are keeping their options open:

Professor Heiner Klinkrad from the ESA said: "At present we can not say where the re-entry is going to happen except that it is not going to happen north of the 85 northern latitude or south of 85 southern latitude."

Which, while presumably reassuring for a number of penguins, doesn't exactly narrow it down; a shower of debris falling on a turning sphere could, in theory, make quite a mess, although those experts seem to think the chances of human casualties are remote.

The news that a ton or so of metal is about to disintegrate in the upper atmosphere provides a chance to repeat an exercise prompted by the impending abrupt descent of the UARS satellite in 2011.

Since there's not much you can do about the possibility of a 90lb chunk of steel landing on your head, you might as well amuse yourself by considering where, in an ideal world, you would like it to fall.

Quote of the week

From veteran astronaut Rusty Schweickart, speaking at a US conference on our current ability to cope with a potential major asteroid impact:

“If we don’t find it until a year out, make yourself a nice cocktail and go out and watch.”

No news to some, of course, but I like his style!

Lembit takes his eye off the ball

It's party time again! Just in time for the Bank Holiday, astronomers have spotted yet another Near-Earth Asteroid.

2013 QR1 will make its nearest approach this time - at what space.com refers to as a 'safe distance' of 1.8 million miles - at 3.37am BST tomorrow morning, though enthusiasts can watch it in a webcast at the more civilized time of 5.30pm BST on Sunday.

Its recent discovery means that data from this pass will be needed to calculate whether there is any chance of a future impact, and there are still plenty more out there to be discovered, which rather calls into question the recent assurances that, based on current knowledge, we aren't in line for a strike for at least the next century.

“Finding 10,000 near-Earth objects is a significant milestone,” said Lindley Johnson, program executive for NASA’s Near-Earth Object Observations Program, "but there are at least 10 times that many more to be found before we can be assured we will have found any and all that could impact and do significant harm to the citizens of Earth.” 

Even leaving aside the question of all those 'unknown unknowns' still whizzing around up there, there's always the chance of a collision knocking one of the known ones onto a new trajectory. On a cosmic scale, it's always going to be a question of 'when', not 'if'.

And where's Lembit Opik while all this is going on? Surely this one-time stalwart campaigner for an asteroid early warning system has something to say on the matter? Unfortunately, he seems to have been occupied with matters rather closer to home:

'Former MP Lembit Opik bitten in the groin by a sausage dog while judging a charity pet show'

I suppose it's too much to hope that this will convince him once and for all that the celebrity life isn't all it's cracked up to be and that he should return forthwith to matters astronomical.

After all, while the USA gears up for an asteroid-based gold rush and runs competitions to find a useful method of deflection, no-one in Britain has yet stepped up to become, as it were, the face of asteroids.

This should leave the field wide open for Opik, once described as the 'Nostradamus of Westminster' for his dire prognostications of asteroid impact. After all, his previous alternative careers haven't exactly left him covered in glory and it's clear he has no future as a dog show judge.

Sadly, I suspect that his media antics have effectively disqualified him from becoming our national authority on the subject; should we one day face an imminent impact, I, for one, don't want to hear about it from an alumnus of 'I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here'.

A little light hoovering...

... by NASA

So cool that we'll even forgive them the inappropriate sound effects.

Paint your spaceship

Yee-ha! There's gold in them thar asteroids - along, it is believed, with platinum and a host of rare minerals.

We took a step nearer to the realm of classic science fiction this week with the launch of this year's second asteroid-mining venture. One might be seen as eccentricity; two within a month start to look like a gold rush.

Deep Space Industries plans to launch three laptop-sized craft on asteroid flyby missions while its rival, the even more grandiosely-titled Planetary Resources, intends to send a fleet of small craft into Earth orbit, a posse of tiny prospectors looking for that elusive glint of something valuable in passing rocks.

It certainly makes a change from seeing asteroids merely as incoming missiles and a threat to humanity, though those of an apocaholic disposition might enjoy contemplating the potential risks of trajectory perturbation caused by mining activities.

While the economist sensibly points out that, should vast reserves of platinum be a) discovered and b) brought back, the resulting depression of the markets would affect the long-term profits of the operation, DSI's David Gump ultimately has his eye on higher things.

Mining metals in space and constructing spacecraft components in orbit would eliminate the need for materials to be brought out of Earth's gravity well at great expense. Even more conveniently, ice from asteroids and comets could one day fuel the next generation of space exploration.

Add in inventions such as the inflatable living module that can be shot into space compressed into a 7-foot tube and suddenly the visions of Arthur C Clarke, James Blish et al. don't seem so far away any more, though with advances in robotics, I doubt we will ever see independent space prospectors like the husband-and-wife team in Bertram Chandler's charming short story, 'The Half Pair' (which, incidentally, contains one of my favourite sci-fi quotes: 'Spaghetti and free-fall don't mix').

And with advances in carbon nanotechnology keeping pace, future generations may yet see the much-debated space elevator constructed on the moon or Mars. Perhaps DSI's Firefly craft and their larger Dragonfly successors will herald the beginning of a new age in extra-terrestrial activity.

After all, at the start of the Californian gold rush, who would ever have believed that some of that gold would one day be an essential component of the lunar landing module?

Hey, little goldfish....

...Where you goin' to?

Little goldfish, let me swim along with you.'

Every now and then, a news story comes along that makes me instantly and inexplicably happy. 

In the midst of all the gloom and doom, this week was brightened by news of the safe arrival at the International Space Station of one astronaut, two cosmonauts and 32 fish.

The guppy-sized medaka fish will be living in a state-of-the-art habitat, specially delivered by a Japanese robotic cargo freighter, where they will be studied to observe how they are affected by the zero-g environment.

Fish in space - how cool is that?

In fact, it's even better than the anti-gravity machine for mice.

(And, even more pleasingly, the vocalist lip-synching in this clip of the truly excruciating title song is one Richard Dreyfuss, later to acquire fame in quite another piscine context.)

"You get that exosphere tidied up right now, or you're grounded!"

The breasts of scientifically-minded Scots everywhere will be swelling with pride this week at the news that Strathclyde University has been chosen to lead a multi-million pound international research project.

The Stardust programme will examine ways to prevent space debris colliding with satellites in orbit and, more sensationally, investigate possible methods of deflecting asteroids on a collision course for Earth.

OK, so it's not exactly Bruce Willis and a bunch of nukes, but it's exciting enough news and long overdue if you consider that Lembit Opik was calling for something of the sort back in the 1990s, before he was attracted into a rather different orbit.

Unfortunately for the PR side of the project, it is headed by one Dr Massimiliano Vasile who, despite clearly having a brain the size of a planet (and a trendy beard), has not quite mastered the art of the media-friendly soundbite. Here he is on the subject of the twin targets of asteroids and space debris:

“The two share a number of commonalities. Both are uncontrolled objects whose orbit is deeply affected by a number of gravitational and non-gravitational interactions, both have an irregular shape and an uncertain attitude motion, and both are made of inhomogeneous materials that can respond unexpectedly to a deflection action."

It all makes perfect sense, of course, but it's not going to appeal to the man on the Clapham omnibus - or fire the imagination of tomorrow's potential space engineers. And it gets worse:

“Such a significant multidisciplinary technical challenge, with real societal benefit for the future, represents a compelling topic for a training network.”

It's certainly about time someone started a bit of orbital housework; the immediate vicinity of our planetary home is starting to resemble the floor of a teenager's bedroom and it is, frankly, embarrassing (though at least the odds of a visit from the neighbours are fairly remote).

More to the point, there's enough scrap metal whizzing about up there to do serious damage to satellites or manned craft. The scientists have four years to come up with something - ideas so far include lasers, nets and, most intriguingly, a sort of motorised spider with robotic arms, as well as motors to attach to rogue asteroids - and we shall watch their work with interest.

However, should they come up with a ground-breaking discovery and want to see it on the front pages complete with user-friendly quotes, it might be as well to ensure someone takes Dr Vasile out for a long celebration lunch and leaves a more media-savvy colleague to conduct the press conference.

"Flash, I love you - but we only have twenty-eight years to save the Earth!"

Well, you knew I wasn't going to let it go unremarked, didn't you?

Nasa has identified a new asteroid threat to our planet and calculated that it could potentially impact on February 5th 2040.

2011 AG5 is a 140m-wide chunk of rock that, according to current calculations, has a 1-in-625 chance of impacting with the Earth. This has worried enough people to prompt a discussion of impact prevention strategy at the 49th session of the (deep breath!) Scientific and Technical Subcommittee of the United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space.

The resulting press release means, of course, that the Mail has helpfully trotted out a still from 'Armageddon' (Bruce Willis & Co jetting off in a testosterone-fuelled rocket to nuke an asteroid) to give us the idea*, while a host of other news headlines fully exploit the dramatic potential of the situation.

The European Space Agency, however, are really not entering into the spirit of the thing, pointing out that 2011 AG5 has not yet been observed for the full orbit necessary to calculate its future position with any confidence. The interval and the need to gather more observational data make this 'news' story something of a damp squib.

Still, on the bright side, the coverage has produced a phrase that, even by the excruciating standards of US jargon, is a humdinger: according to CBS news website, we are currently in a situation of 'non-zero impact probability'.


*Although the picture editor has, for some unknown reason, chosen a dramatic scene showing a member of the space-suited crew holding the others at gunpoint, which I don't think is quite what the UN committee had in mind.

One small step for man...

Don't get me wrong; I think the Mars 500 mission has an important role to play in the development of long-range space-travel - after all, this blog was in on the start of the mission 520 days ago. It's just that...well... I mean for goodness' sake!

Watch LIVE as the hatch is opened! See six men step out from a converted submarine in a Moscow car park!

After all, it's hardly Neil Armstrong walking on the moon, is it? As far as I can see, the only people interested in seeing them emerge, blinking, into the daylight would be their families and friends.

Of more significance, perhaps, is the fact that we can watch the event. In just over 40 years - half a single lifetime - we have gone from relatively few privileged souls huddled round black-and-white televisions to a world population able to watch live action in full colour on TVs, computers and even phones almost anywhere on earth.

There's a certain irony in the fact that, while the moon has returned to its unattainable status, at least for the time being, and we are, in any case, almost enclosed in a cosmic cage of our own making, technology has significantly shrunk the Earth, at least in terms of communication.

However, there's having the power to say something and there's having something worth saying. Had the intrepid six actually been to Mars, there might well be a media frenzy beyond all imagining at their return; as it is, despite the best efforts of the European Space Agency, the story remains resolutely low-key.

Of course, that's before anyone has told the European contingent exactly what's been going on in their absence - perhaps it might be worth tuning in after all to hear the Frenchman and the Italian reacting to that.

"Les QI, ont-ils brusquement baissés alors que j’étais absent?"

Remember these chaps?

Six intrepid astro/cosmonauts have spent the past 513 days on a simulated mission to Mars in the interests of space research. For over a year and a half, their only contact with Earth has been through the official communications link.

While they have produced plenty of media-friendly diary entries and accounts of their situation, all their information on events outside has come via Mission Control, where psychologists have been employed to ensure their emotional well-being and equilibrium.

How likely is it, then, that the two Europeans involved - a Frenchman and an Italian - have been allowed to follow the development of the growing financial crisis in the eurozone? What possible good could come of describing the situation to men in their position?

So in a week or so, Romain and Diego will emerge, blinking, into the spotlight of European media attention and find out that it's all been going to the dogs - and just to complicate matters, thanks to an ill-timed grimace captured by the world's cameras, relations between Berlusconi and Sarkozy are less than cordial.

I imagine that, sometime next week, on the outskirts of Moscow, there will be a scene not entirely unlike the one in Aliens when a newly-defrosted Ripley discovers just how disastrously things have gone wrong in her absence.

And like Ripley, one imagines, our intrepid heroes will find themselves asking the question,"Did IQ's just drop sharply while I was away?"

Eight minutes of heaven

No time to post today; instead, should you have eight minutes to spare, sit down, relax and enjoy the view...

( For film enthusiasts, this has the added bonus of being forever associated with John Boorman's ground-breaking Zardoz.)

For full-screen, you may need to view it at source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZ8tmkDLkLs&feature=related

The sky is falling!

According to the latest update on the UARS - the satellite dropping out of its rapidly decaying orbit - it is expected to land sometime 'during the afternoon of September 23rd, Eastern Daylight Time'.

A bit of arithmetic places that as sometime on Friday evening for those of us in the UK. Although the exact target area cannot yet be determined, the update is certain that the satellite 'will not be passing over North America during that time period'.

One imagines the good folks of the U-S-of-A breathing a sigh of relief - as any Limey who has spent time there can tell you, there's A-murr-ica and then there's the rest of the world, which doesn't really count (except for a few Canadians, who play hockey and almost talk like real people).

We're not in the clear yet, though. It's a sobering thought that, should 1,200-odd pounds of metal start raining down on some of  Britain's city centres during the usual Friday night Bacchanalia, quite apart from potential casualties, we'll never hear the end of it from the religious fundamentalists.

NASA have calculated the chance of a person being struck by any of it - something that has never happened to date - as 1 in 3,200; worrying, perhaps, for anyone who has ever bought a National Lottery ticket expecting to win. However, according to the Daily Mail (who else!), 'the odds of any one particular person being hit are much lower, around one in 21 trillion'.

So I suppose that means I'm all right, Jack; all the same, it will be interesting to see whether there is any ongoing news coverage tomorrow night, particularly in the likely impact zone.


Health & Safety update: according to latest reports, 'NASA has warned people not to touch the debris if they come across it because it is likely to have sharp edges'.

Down and down and down it goes....

... and where it lands, nobody knows!

Remember UARS? The Nasa Upper Atmosphere Research Satellite is now on its way back to Earth at a speedy 5 miles per second.

According to NASA's latest update, 'Re-entry is expected Sept. 23, plus or minus a day. The re-entry of UARS is advancing because of a sharp increase in solar activity since the beginning of this week'.

The BBC have reported this with the splendidly vague headline 'Nasa satellite UARS nearing Earth 'could land anywhere''.

Scientists have identified 26 separate pieces that could survive the fall through the earth's atmosphere, and debris could rain across an area 400-500km (250-310 miles) wide.

Where this area might be won't become clear until about two hours before it enters the atmosphere, around the 23rd. So far, all they can predict is that the impact will be somewhere between 57 degrees North and 57 degrees South - which doesn't exactly narrow it down.

Normally this kind of thing would have me glued to the computer* but it so happens that I shall be spending most of the 23rd and 24th ferrying offspring plus an assortment of wordly goods to other parts of the country; how frustrating is that?

NASA have calculated that the chances of a chunk of it actually hitting someone are 1 in 3,200, although, as they optimistically point out, no one has to date been injured by an object dropping from space. What I'd like is something a bit more practical; for example, if you see it coming, should you:
a) run like hell?
b) crouch down and cover your head with your arms?
c) call Max Clifford? After all, you're going to have a story to sell whatever happens.

Doubtless this kind of advice won't appear for fear of setting off mass panic; it's probably best not to worry and to think that, should you be unlucky enough to be on the receiving end, at least your place in history will be assured.


*Not that I'm hoping it hurts anyone, you understand - although in an idle moment or two, I have been compiling a little list of those who, should they happen to be underneath, 'they'd none of them be missed' .

'Space? Thanks, but no thanks, Richard!'

With the 'news' that 'Phase One of the world's first commercial spaceport is 90% complete' - a pointless Public Relations announcement if ever there was one - those interested in joining Branson's happy band should probably start booking soon.

The first Virgin Galactic flights are predicted to take place early in 2013, according to a spokeswoman who appears to be rather indecently excited about the whole affair:

'Christine Anderson, the newly appointed executive director of the New Mexico Spaceport Authority, told SPACE.com she was 'jazzed' about the progress made so far.'

That is, I suspect, a new and obscure piece of American business jargon, of which Ms Anderson appears to be a fluent speaker:

'So hats off to all the contractors and architects and everybody else that spent a lot of time and sweat equity in its development.'

I can't help feeling, however, that all this futuristic development has been going on longer that you'd think. After all, Richard Branson was the man behind Virgin's Cross-Country trains.

Clan Macheath being widely scattered about the United Kingdom, long-distance train journeys have been a constant fixture for as long as I can remember. It used to be a not unappealing way to spend a day - a good book, occasional snacks and ever-changing views of our beautiful countryside.

Then Branson came along and changed all that. The first thing to go were the tables for all but a lucky few; everyone else got a view of someone else's seat-back and a flimsy drop-down tray.

This, of course, meant that the conveniently suitcase-sized gaps between each pair of back-to-back seats were replaced by two shelves at the extreme end of the carriage, out of sight of their worried owners and conveniently close to the exit for any opportunistic thief*.

The long-distance traveller, then, had the choice of an unattended shelf holding, at most, six cases or a Damoclean overhead ledge too narrow for a briefcase and too shallow for anything else; inspired design for a train making the 12-hour journey from Penzance to Aberdeen.

And then there were the toilets. Oh God, the toilets! Conforming to disability access rules, these vast hangars took up a huge proportion of the carriage and, the trains having drastically shrunk from their once majestic length, there were three of them. For the whole train. From Penzance to Aberdeen. Enough said.

Now I think I see where it was all going. A vast distance to travel, no luggage to speak of and no need for a working toilet; those inexplicably comfortless Virgin trains were obviously the prototypes for Branson's Spaceships One and Two.

And that (plus, of course, the $200,000 fare) is why I, for one, will be declining Branson's invitation.


*Not idle speculation; a few weeks after this new arrangement came in, a couple in my carriage discovered that their suitcases had vanished without trace somewhere between Birmingham and Newcastle. The reaction of the authorities suggested this was by no means an isolated incident.

'We have nothing to fear but the sky falling on our heads!'

Hot on the heels of the announcement of orbital debris reaching a 'tipping point' comes the news that a 6.5-tonne satellite is on its way down and will be liberally spreading debris over a wide area sometime in the next few weeks.

Despite official announcements that the chances of being underneath a piece of it are very small indeed, the Times is getting entertainingly worked up about the potential hazard:

'Britain in path of falling satellite', screams the headline, implying that a direct hit is inevitable; better start looking for tin hats, digging shelters or, better still, think about leaving the country.

Actually that might not be much help; a better decription of the impending situation would be 'Antarctica and anywhere further than 57 degrees North NOT in path of falling satellite' - less catchy, I admit, but it does sum up the predictions in a rather more balanced way.

In fact, unless you happen to be in Alaska, Canada (north of Churchill), Greenland, Iceland, Scandanavia or Siberia - or, closer to home, anwhere north of Braemar - you could be on the receiving end of a sprinkling of NASA shrapnel. Given the price of gold these days and the amount of the stuff that goes into making a satellite, this could be cause for rejoicing rather than otherwise*.

The current eccentricity of its orbit makes it impossible to predict where the 500-mile-long target area will be at this stage but NASA will be posting regular updates for the obsessively worried (would-be Chicken Lickens can get status reports here).

The satellite in question - the snappily-named UARS (Upper Atmosphere Research Satellite) - was actually expected to function for only three years but pluckily carried on for another eleven, gathering data on the depletion of the ozone layer and clearly implicating the release of man-made CFCs.

Perhaps a better name for it would be The Golden Snitch.

*We should point out that the satellite remains federal property and, should you put a bit of it on e-bay, Uncle Sam's enforcers will be popping round pretty sharp-ish.