Later, some tips for horse thieves and theatre-goers. But first, a recommendation to telescope makers. Telescopes, I believe, should come with a health warning.
A mental health warning. Because looking through a telescope can seriously blow your mind. And I speak from experience.
The blow to my head came the first time I saw Saturn through a telescope - even though, in theory, I knew what to expect: I had seen wonderfully detailed photographs of Saturn, and know that Saturn is a planet, just like Earth, circling the Sun, albeit with a belt of rings around its middle.
And yet. . . When I put my eye to our new telescope to see Saturn that first time, I couldn't believe it. The small, white ball, with a flat hula-hoop of a belt around its middle, had to be phoney, a cartoon.
It wasn't that I couldn't believe my eyes, but that I didn't believe the telescope. I even checked to see if himself, my resident astronomer, had stuck a black-and-white drawing onto the telescope to trick me. But no, this was for real. And mind-blowing was the only word for it.
Curiously, Saturn still does it for me every time. Yes, the craters of the Moon are beautiful; yes, it is nice to see Jupiter's moons. But there is something mesmerising about Saturn. And so on clear nights, when himself takes the telescope into the back garden, I make a point of joining him for a while, just to see Saturn and get my fix.
If I find it mind-blowing now, how much more shocking must it have been in 1610, when Galileo turned his telescope onto the heavens for the first time and saw that there were mountains on the Moon; that Jupiter had moons of its own; that Venus had phases, just like our Moon. Proof that there were other worlds out there, other planets, all spinning on their axes. And that they all revolved around the Sun, and that the Earth was no longer unique, and no longer at the centre of things.
No wonder people mocked him at first. Surely, if the Earth really was spinning, then we would all be dizzy. And if the Earth was really not at the centre of things, then the old certainties would evaporate, one could no longer believe in the literal truth of the Gospels, and the old order would topple. And that would never do. No wonder the establishment quaked in its boots.
Which is why Galileo's tussle with Rome and the Inquisition is so fascinating. And even more so, perhaps, is the Catholic hierarchy's long struggle against the scientific truths and facts that Galileo presented. It may be a quarter-century since I saw Brecht's play The Life of Galileo, but I still remember the powerful fight between the old order and the new scientific world.
So, when the Institute of Physics asked me to suggest events for this Einstein International Year of Physics, Brecht's Galileo was top of my list, though I never dreamed anyone would take on the daunting task.
But take a bow, Rough Magic. This Dublin theatre company continues its excellent engagement with science (two years ago it staged Michael Frayn's powerful play Copenhagen), and its production of The Life of Galileo opens in Dublin's Project Arts Centre next Saturday, February 19th, for two weeks, with previews from Thursday, February 17th (www.rough-magic.com). Catch it while you can.
The least I can do now is help organise and promote some public events to complement the play. So, I hope you can join us for a pre-show talk, "And Yet It Moves", with astronomers and historians of science, about the great man's life and legacy, on Wednesday 23rd at 6 p.m. Then there's "Science Friction", a panel discussion about science, politics and modern-day parallels with Galileo's struggle against the powers that be (think global warming, for instance), on Saturday, February 26th at 5.30 p.m. Panellists will include the playwright Howard Brenton and Antonino Zichichi, a celebrity Italian physicist who is both friend of the Vatican and fan of Galileo. Admission to both events is free, and all are welcome.
And finally, that tip for horse thieves: next time you are rustling, bring a telescope. It worked for us, at least. Not that we were taking thoroughbreds, we just wanted a quiet, dark spot to look for a faint comet.
Yes, it was quiet - only one car passed us that night, but that was as we took the telescope from the car. Yes, we probably looked suspicious, clad in dark clothes, with balaclavas to keep out the bitter cold.
Yes, a telescope can like a rocket-launcher in the right light. Yes, we forgot that much of rural Meath-Kildare is stud farm country. Local residents will be pleased to know, however, that their neighbourhood watch works a treat, and the Garda car arrived within minutes.
Fearfully, we explained we were looking for a comet - only to discover the garda was as keen on astronomy as we were. There followed an excited conversation about aurorae and other matters astronomical, before he drove off, wishing us clear skies. Well, as I say, it worked for us.
For those not blessed with a telescope and resident astronomer, there are always the open nights at Dunsink Observatory on the first and third Wednesday of each month. For free tickets, write to: Dunsink Observatory, Castleknock, Dublin 15, enclosing an SAE. And hope for clear skies - and a mind-blowing view of Saturn.