Some days are better than others

So, at the outset, yesterday didn't look too promising. I'd arranged to take Rory and one of his mates...also called Rory to Lord's to see Middlesex play Essex. It was 'kid for a quid' which was a real plus, but the weather forecast was pretty dreadful - a definite minus, especially after our visit to cricket nirvana for the New Zealand test.

Anyway, the rain stayed away for most of the day: we enjoyed the privileges of the Members' stand, thanks to my student membership (just about the only time I've exploited my student status since returning to the arms of academe last September), and the boys had a terrific day.

Praise to Middlesex CCC for laying on some half term-ish activities that kept the lads in good spirits even though rain blew out the end of the match - they were particularly taken by the free binoculars for turning up in their club shirts, and the player autograph session at the end. Actually, as we wanted to avoid the England football hoards at Marylebone, heading for 'wemb-ber-ley....wemberley', we hung on around the pavilion and the two Rorys not only collected all the Middlesex signatures (that's Rory S getting his book signed by Middlesex, Ireland and England's Ed Joyce, above), but all the vanquished Essex players too......except the grumpy skipper Mark Pettini who'd been LBW'd for a big fat zero earlier in the day!

But my highlight of the day was noticing a new message on my phone, calling it and hearing an unmistakable voice: "Hello, this is James Burke......."

For anyone under 40, it probably means nothing, but for me, James Burke was the BBC's voice of science, technology and the Apollo missions. My mission for my Masters dissertation this week has been to track him down...and I landed a big step in the the mission yesterday!

Beep little Sputnik, beep

For many, the space race began 50 years ago today. Okay, so purists may point much further back to Goddard, Tsiolkovsky and the like, and the Germans certainly launched a V2 well beyond the limits of space back in 1944. But history was made on the flat steppe of Tyuratam on October 4 1957 with the successful launch of Sputnik 1 - the world's first artificial satellite.

While the Soviets saw the launch - masterminded by the Chief Designer, Sergei Koralev - of the R7 carrying the 83kg nitrogen-filled sphere and its successful deployment in orbit as a scientific triumph, initially it was regarded as a side-of-the-desk project in the race to outdo American efforts to design and deploy nuclear ICBMs.

Putting a satellite into orbit warranted a front page piece in Pravda celebrating the Soviet success in this International Geophysical Year - but it was downpage and that first media coverage was actually quite understated. Clearly, the Moscow regime hadn't anticipated the impact that the beep beep beep from space would cause....

Across the rest of the world, Sputnik created a furore. For 22 days, millions tuned into the craft's signature radio signal. Red terror heightened across the capitalist world. If the Soviets could launch a satellite to fly directly over the US, they could certainly land nuclear missiles on Washington, London, New York and Paris.

Of course the Americans had to get into the Space Race quickly, and much to the consternation of their premier rocket designer, Werner Van Braun, the Navy's Vanguard rocket was chosen as the vehicle to deliver America's response to the Soviet threat (though not before Koralev's team had launched a dog into space on Sputnik 2). In December, the Vanguard rocket launched from the pad in Florida amid a blaze of TV lights and with the eyes of the world firmly fixed on it. It was all so different from the total secrecy surrounding Soviet launches - which remained secret until proven successful.

America's first satellite launcher reached the giddy heights of 17 inches, before crashing back to the pad in flames. It wasn't until 1958 that the US finally joined the Space Race with Explorer 1.

'57 was a bad year for American space endeavour, but a massive leap forward for space exploration. It will always be associated with Koralev's beeping sphere.

Certain synergies

I'm forever scribbling down date trivia - often linked to my interest in space exploration, though not always. Today, I've turned up the slightly linked facts that it's John Glenn's birthday, and the 41st anniversary of the launch of Gemini 10.

Now John Glenn's something of a hero of mine: the first American to orbit the earth in his 'Friendship 7' Mercury craft and then the oldest astronaut when he flew on the Shuttle some 36 years later.

John Young was Gemini 10's commander and unlike Glenn who left after Mercury and entered politics, Young hung around at NASA long enough to fly two Apollo mission and the first and ninth Shuttle missions.

Glenn is 86 today while Young only finally retired from NASA in 2004.

Of course, both space events today are far overshadowed by the 89th birthday of another of my heroes - salutations Nelson Mandela!

Eight days, and counting

In eight days time I'll be facing John Humphrys across a darkened Mastermind studio and spouting my knowledge - or lack of it - about Soviet rocket engineer Sergei Pavlovich Korolev.

It's getting close now and the gaps in my knowledge appear to be widening not shrinking.

I operate best as a storyteller and can spin the yarn of the Chief Designer's life and achievements until the cows have probably circled the earth many more times than Yuri Gagarin (...well ok, he only went round once, and didn't actually complete a full orbit). Where it all goes hazy is on two fronts: dates and science...a bit of a handicap methinks.

If I'm asked questions about the key facts and personalities around SP's life, about Sputnik, Vostok, the R7, Voskhod and the N1, fine. If it's stuff around the chemical formula in the mix of Gluschko's rocket engines, or the precise apogee of Sputnik 5, there'll be a fair few passes.

I'm under no illusions about my Mastermind appearance: my delight (and slight terror) is just making it to the show. When I did the Weakest Link, I felt I could win and most certainly wanted to. I will be VERY VERY fortunate to get beyond my Mastermind heat, and could very easily finish a distant fourth.

A tad underwhelmed

My passion for 20th century history can occasionally turn a profit, so I was looking forward to a trip to the National Cold War Exhibition at RAF Cosford in Shropshire to put together a piece for an American web publication.

The 8000 square metre 21st century take on an aircraft hangar looks impressive from the outside, and certainly shows up the rest of the museum, which is now looking rather tired. But I'm not sure the designers and curators have grabbed the opportunity presented to them - I certainly came away underwhelmed, and am going to have to pick my words very carefully when writing up the site review.

First impressions? The planes don't add enough to the story. Is this a Cold War exhibition or is it a new way to store historic aircraft? At the moment, it seems to fall between two stools, and falls short of the standards set by the likes of the American Air Museum at Duxford or the Air & Space museum in Washington DC.

Clearly it's early days for the RAF Museum's newest exhibit, but I think it needs more content, more interactivity (all the touch screens lead to the same content!) and more human linkage between the aircraft and the history to really bring it to life.

Words of engagement

Literally hundreds of people have clicked through from the New Scientist's space blog to my piece on the Apollo 1 fire which is very gratifying. But of course, the main thrust of this blog is meant to be about organisational communication, so I've been looking for a link that brings the space programme and organisational/employee/internal communication together. And of course, there is a great example.

When President Kennedy stated to Congress in 1961 that America's intention was to send a man to the moon and return him safely before the end of the decade, he gave the clearest message possible to everyone involved in the space programme. From Mercury, through Gemini to Apollo, the US now had a clear route to the moon.

Over 400,000 people working in every aspect of the programme were engaged in achieving a tangible goal with a defined deadline. It was going to be hard; there would be immense problems along the way, and in the wake of the Apollo 1 fire, it looked as though the programme would fail.

But it didn't. People pulled together with a passion, dedication and tenacity not really seen in any single human endeavour since. The clear message was turned into outstanding success. The message was translated into activity for almost half a million people. Their collective effort put Armstrong, aldrin and the rest on the moon.

However, the Apollo 11 moon landing became an end-point not merely a milestone in the progress of the exploration of space. 38 years on, we've advanced little from that end point since no subsequent president has taken up and built on Kennedy's objective.

How often does that happen in our own business lives? How often do we rally to the call, only to see momentum lost as time goes by. We need the big goals - something tangible to reach. But once we get there, we need another. As soon as the goalposts stop moving, we begin to move back.

Apollo 1 fire: 40 years today

As I recall a few entries below, and on the New Scientist Space blog's most recent entry, today marks the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 1 fire. Three lives were lost that date, but their loss led to 12 men walking on the moon between 1969 and 1972.

For me, 40 years is almost a lifetime ago - I was not quite three years old when the accident occurred. But those Apollo missions stirred an interest in space exploration that has remained with me ever since.

It will be a sombre day at Kennedy today, with a special service to reflect on the lives, the bravery and the ultimate sacrifice of Chaffee, White and Grissom. The following weeks bring more anniversaries - Komorov, the first Russian to lose his life in the space race and, of course, the first Shuttle disaster.

But no exploration is without risk. I just with we'd fully drive for the rewards that exploration beyond our world will bring, rather than always putting political expediency above the sheer exhaustion of doing something completely new, extremely difficult and making a success of it.