No, I don’t think I could ever be an astronaut; in fact I’m pretty sure. It’s not the intellectual effort that concerns me, not all the physics and the maths and the endless hours of studying. I’m not sure whether I have that capability but I think I could apply myself and settle down to cram my brain with all of the facts and figures that I would undoubtedly need. After all my ‘A’ level physics would have to come in handy for once.
I’m not too concerned about the physical effort either. Although I would be the first to recognise that my body is not built for speed, all of those hours in the gym doing circuit training and bench presses (whatever they are) I could take literally in my stride. Given time I think I could build up enough stamina and a high enough level of fitness to be spun around in a gyroscope at 10G, as seen on James Bond, without falling apart or being sick.
I’m not even bothered about working in cramped and difficult conditions although I would have to work on controlling any claustrophobic feelings that I am prone to from time to time. I will be alright as long as I can move my legs and my arms and if I am to push some buttons and move some levers then this must really be a requirement of the job.
Team working I could take in my stride after all I get on with most people and it’s an everyday thing working in a team, isn’t it? They would have to be tidy mind you, no leaving flight logs lying about all over the place or empty food packets just chucked onto the consoles or stuffed down the back of the chairs. It couldn’t be like a student flat. There would have to be some ground rules (above the ground rules?) but I guess that this would be a part of the training, learning how to get along with each other and all that.
I’m sure I could even manage the periods of loneliness if I was on a very long mission, to Mars or Jupiter perhaps and the rest of the crew was in suspended hibernation like in an Arthur C Clark book. As long as I had something to do, something to keep my mind occupied, books to read and some DVDs to catch up on I think I could cope. I would soon get into a routine with meal times, exercise times, checking on my colleagues and relaxation and then I’d be sorted.
But there is one reason why I could never be an astronaut and it would become obvious as soon as I had to put my space suit on. I would put on that hood thing that makes you look like Princess Leia and slide into the pressure suit but as soon as the helmet was placed over my head it would happen, I would get an itch. It would start behind my ear, or on the side of my nose, a small needle like prick that I would try to ignore but that would grow and grow until it felt like chilli pepper was being rubbed in my face. Or perhaps it would be in my foot under layers and layers of protective clothing, or on my leg or on my ribs, all areas that I couldn’t reach. Hundreds of little ticks would invade my person once the parts were out of reach and I just couldn’t get the satisfaction of giving them a right good scratch. Within a few minutes I would be insane, driven mad by an interminable desire to rip off my suit and scratch away, only to be sucked inside out into inter stellar space.
As it happens, I doubt I could be a deep sea diver either.
Thoughts from a Guerrilla Worker 