Not meaning to upset you, but the cloudiness didn't matter at all, it was just.... (No words. Splutter).

Here's a bit from what I scribbled down afterwards...

The fact that, to me, the whole of humanity was stretched out like masses of black ants in line upon expectant line for mile after mile on every headland as far as the eye could see, in common quivering excitement did nothing to calm me down, but the shared quivering wasn't it. Nor was it the wonderful spectacle of the corona etc. since, as you won't be surprised to hear, the clouds obscured the sun at the crucial moment. Nor was it the excitement as the early effects started, the indefinable unnaturalness, the fact that the seagulls all went quiet, the sudden breeze which sprang up from nowhere, the colour change in the sea to a bright, bright grey-blue-green that would have looked silly in a painting, the fact that it was receding off the beaches in huge square patterns, the fact that the locals were murmuring that they'd never seen it so strange and so far out before, the unified oohs and aahs and silences in quick succession as the scene changed every moment. Nor was it the excited talk of a radio commentator out on the Scilly Isles, 40 seconds nearer to totality than we were, nor was it the riveting sound of his voice turning hysterical as their moment arrived at the exact second when we saw the far horizon of the sea turn black and the sky turn orange. No. What did it for me was the shadow of the moon rushing towards us at a pace to make you whimper, and the utter engulfing power of it as the sky turned black with a God-worthy crash of inaudible thunder.