The clouds had obediently unfolded to reveal that ‘chariot of fire’ over the Caribbean on 14 April 1958; but the descent of Sputnik 2 left us without any satellites to predict. The first US satellite, the pencil-shaped Explorer 1, had been launched on 1 February; the grapefruit-like Vanguard 1 followed on 17 March; and Explorer 3 on 26 March. But these three satellites were small and faint, and, with orbits inclined at less than 35° to the equator, they were far to the south and nearly always below the horizon for observers in Britain.

During this welcome respite there was time, on 22 April, for a visit to Herstmonceux, where the moated castle was worlds apart from the hotchpotch of rather ugly buildings at the RAE. (The contrast always startled me, even in later years.) Thus began a secure and friendly cooperation with the Royal Greenwich Observatory that flourished for more than thirty years, with benefit to both sides. The road back from historic Herstmonceux ran through Piltdown, a name redolent of even older times – or so it was thought until the Piltdown Man was exposed as bogus.

The hiatus in prediction did not last long, for Sputnik 3 was launched on 15 May, which was presciently marked in 1958 diaries as Ascension Day. We heard about the launch just before noon, and early that afternoon sent out the first set of predictions, which proved accurate to half a minute.