Will he live?

He’s lying on the sofa.

Dying.

He’s been fading all afternoon.

He aches, he’s feeling hopeless, helpless, grim.

I busy myself with the children, get them to bed, pop in periodically and administer affection, hot wheatbags, tea and sympathy, for which he is weakly grateful.

I’ve just got the supper in the oven and sit down to play something mindless at my computer, when:

“Al! Sorry… If it’s not too much trouble…?”

I smile.

“What is it?”

“Just have a look and tell me where the Sun is, would you?”

I open the software to see.

“It’s at 8 degrees 45 Libra.” I tell him

“Open my Nativity?”

“OK?”

“Where’s my Saturn?”

I laugh out loud.

“It’s at 8 degrees 45 Aries.”

He is visibly relieved; like he’s just been granted a reprieve. Death no longer haunts him.

“I’ll be better tomorrow.”

Snot and Moon-Neptune

So, my two and a half-year old cherub (with Pluto rising – you see the tongue in my cheek?) has started playgroup. His intensity is legendary: he has no idea at all about personal space and no respect at all for a conversation that may have been in full flow before he decided he wanted to speak. Of course, there is an element of that in all toddlers, but, being the fourth of four boys, I am naturally aware of the “norm” and, by that token, of the intensity lent this little fella by Pluto rising in his Nativity.

My point is this: a small person starts playgroup and suddenly your household is infected with all the bugs and infections such small people breed. A playgroup is a hothouse for such things. And your nipper hasn’t been exposed to them before, so naturally he has no immunity. So naturally, he catches everything going.

And passes it on.

For me, it started with a bit of a sore throat which became more painful and then less so and now, almost gone, I feel mildly snotty. Not hideous. Not fun, but not hideous.

My lovely astrologer, on the other hand, has been floored. He is, as we speak, snuggled up on the sofa with a quilt and a wheat sack to warm his freezing feet. He is streaming snot (which offends his Virgo no end) and, frankly, finding it tough to maintain a sense of humour.

Why does he have it so much worse than me?

Well. He assures me that by tomorrow he’ll be much better. After all, in the small hours his secondary-progressed Moon opposition Neptune will have passed over.

Astrology. You gotta love it.

I’m on strike. I’ll walk. Forget it!

You know, if you weren’t living it, you couldn’t make it up.

And if you did make it up, no one would believe you.

I mean, seriously.

You may by now be au fait with the dramas retrograde Mercury has been injecting into our lives this past week. Both rather aged vehicles in our possession have at various times given up the ghost, one apparently for good. Let’s take the slightly less sickly-looking one – that is, the one that at least attempted to start upon turning the key in the ignition – having spent a small fortune on a new battery (it’s a Japanese import so nothing so easy as off-the-shelf for us), only to discover it was the starter motor, then having the starter motor reconditioned, we wended our merry way to school, aiming to arrive a little early so as to have a word with one of the teachers. Mercury waved his wand in our general direction and… shazam! Puncture.

Sigh.

ALL of yesterday (and I mean ALL) was taken up with hunting down and having fitted a new tyre (it’s an import, remember?) and we were finally set.

So.

To this morning.

Off we tootled, on our jolly old way. Arrived at school in the nick of time (nothing new there, then), deposited small-fry in their respective classrooms, kissed and told they were loved, and paid for their bangers and mash for lunch, piled back into the car our numbers much depleted and off we scooted home.

Only…

We had got as far as the next village when the car began wobbling rather sickeningly, appearing to lose power and, frankly, hobbling up the hill.

Uh-huh. You got it.

Another flat tyre.

So today will be pretty much taken up with the same shenanigans as yesterday.

Mercury goes direct at 2 p.m. next Tuesday and…

I. CAN’T. WAIT!

Oh God… Please… Mercury! Give us a break!

The saga of Mercury retrograde continues. In a week where replacing a car battery appeared to have done the trick, only not to,  its hiccupping, belching, exhausted wheezing was finally fixed by a reconditioned starter motor and life could move back into normality. I could at last drive my children to school without relying on friends, for example.

You think?

Loaded up and setting off nice and early this very morning, in order to speak to my outrageously Gemini son’s teacher about his inability to concentrate or focus (if only I could explain about my five year-old having Sun, Mercury and Venus all in Gemini: how will he ever concentrate?!  But… astrology? There’s nothing in it, remember?) because he’s not sleeping properly and reverting to trouser-wetting again in his distress, I praised be that the car was fixed.  I even uttered the following words:

“I’ve fallen in love with our bus again.”

And then, on the last stretch before school, I heard a bizarre kind of flapping noise. You know when you notice something and your heart suspects the worst, only for your head to say “Don’t be silly. It’s all fine. You’re paranoid”?

Hmmm.

I wasn’t.

Shortly after that noise, the steering became nauseatingly erratic and I had to pull over sharply in order to avoid an accident.

Flat tyre.

Sigh.

Setting off so early meant that my best friend set off later and passed us on her way to school (I silently praising the heavens that my lovely astrologer had accompanied us and was dutifully changing the wheel). Being the wonderful person she is, she delivered the occupants of her car safely in the playground and came back for mine (having, yesterday, driven us to collect the car from the garage post-starter-motor-fixing – she goes above and beyond, eh?) so the smallest was deposited at playgroup a mere five minutes late.

But of course the spare tyre is just that: a stop-gap, spare tyre, too small to do the job for more than an emergency. So this morning was taken up with hunting for a replacement. And of course they didn’t have one. So they’ve ordered it for later. So of course we’re unlikely to keep our after-school appointment. And of course we’re having to part with the equivalent of at least two limbs financially on this vehicle in one blooming week.  Ay, Chihuahua!

The sooner Mercury turns around and heads off again, the happier this driver will be.

Harumph.

Astrological TMI (too much information)

My lovely astrologer has an awful lot of Virgo, you know. He likes things clean, tidy, unsullied and definitely, most definitely germ-free. My youngest son, for example, likes to suck the square, muslin comforter he calls his goggy until it’s really quite gross by anyone’s standards. Should he approach my lovely astrologer brandishing it before him, you can imagine he might end up risking life and limb through moving traffic backing away from it.

Number 3 son, on the other hand, is utterly Plutonic. The prettiest of the four boys, his mini-bloke attributes are already very much in attendance. Just now, for instance, as my lovely astrologer was nearing the kitchen, this 5 year-old son of Hades mooched past him, hands in his pockets, and muttered:

“I need a poo, Jerm.” (Ironic that he shortens Jeremy to ‘Jerm’, isn’t it?)

I collapsed into fits of giggles. We both did. As Jeremy responded “Well, thanks for telling me.” We discussed the too-much-information side of things before my lovely astrologer headed back out into the hall.

… where he encountered said Pluto-child mooching back. With barely a tilt of his head, he stated:

“I don’t think the poo’s coming out.”

Pluto in Sagittarius, and rising: Too. Much. Information. Dude.

More Mercury Retrograde… Harumph!

The printer wasn’t working. “Offline” it kept flashing, in spite of the fact that moments before it had produced a lovely copy of the map we needed to reach our destination.

A closer inspection revealed that the cable had come loose.

How?

Noone had touched the blooming thing.

And let’s not even get started on the email dramas that have unfolded in my personal life… One email containing information that is then twisted, distorted and fired back… oh, again and again… like a game of hand-grenade ping-pong.

Turn around, Hermes… Come back!

Mercury Retrograde… Go Figure!

Keep your claws off our batteries!

So, my lovely astrologer and I piled the four small-fry into the car in good time to make it to school for “lining-up time” at 9 a.m. Admittedly, we usually make it by the skin of our teeth, if not slightly into the enamel. I handed the keys to the largest of my offspring and asked him to unlock the car and get in, his little brothers following like a line of noisy ducklings.

All in, all strapped down safely, bookbags in attendance and (tragically) small screens beeping, I put the key in the ignition and turned it. A most peculiar noise emanated from beneath the bonnet. First, a dim and distant clicking where the roar of the engine should be, followed by a totally exhausted-sounding attempt at an alarm.

Erm.

We’ve had this car for almost a year now. Admittedly, it is ancient. An old boat of a Mercedes (which sounds far more impressive than it is), it is one of the few vehicles to fit this large family and cost a whopping £650 on eBay. As I say, we’ve had it for a good 10 months and, apart from the way it groans around corners and seems to like to dump all its coolant at surprise moments, it hasn’t given us too much cause for alarm. Ah. I said alarm. Until this morning, we didn’t even known it had one. The key fob that is supposed to lock and unlock it, and set the alarm, has never worked. That was until number one son dropped the keys this morning. Now, suddenly, in a fit of efficiency, it has decided to function. Badly. Possibly because the battery is old and failing and doesn’t have enough power to do its job properly (and boy! do I know that feeling…)

Oh, and it has an immobiliser.

And a very efficient one at that.

The children had to be taken to school by a friend while we stayed to attempt to figure out this irksome malfunction.

We do have another car (also an eBay bargain – a Nissan Largo – and bought as a replacement) but it, too, decided to give up the ghost last week. Apparently its battery is at only just a little over 50% power. So that’ll be £100 for a new one, then. Eek. Collecting this afternoon – keep your fingers crossed it does the trick.

In the meantime, having Googled the Mercedes problem, we have now tried about four different “tips” for solving  it, none of which worked, and are waiting for a friend to deliver a little battery (yes… battery !) for the key fob, in the hope that this small and seemingly insignificant part will fix our headache.

Mercury Gremlins… Dontcha just love ‘em?

Venus-Neptune: Romantic… Disappointment?

Otherwise known as “The One That Got Away” syndrome.

Hmmmm.

It is worth bearing in mind though, isn’t it,  that had he not got away then he would have been “The One That Didn’t Get Away” and thus relegated to the ranks of “Disappointing Relationships I Have Known”…?

You see my point?

I suppose we might also say, on a less specific note, that the grass is always greener…

When you take the principle of attraction, Venus, and combine her with that good ole Man o’ the Sea, Neptune, you are in for one of two things, surely: Higher Love or Disappointment.

(Neptune, after all, confuses beyond recognition, or transcends to the higher plane. I should know. I have my very own kite to Neptune and while I yearn for deeper, more spiritual experience and a more profound meaning to life, I tend somehow to allow myself to get just that bit too drunk. Harumph.)

How many people do you know who have, in a quiet moment, confided in you about the relationship they had that was “better”, “more passionate”, “deeper” than the one they are in now, or about the person they dream about every night who “could have been” perfect for them? There are a surprising number of them out there.

Obviously, though, aspect is going to play a part in all this. If you have Venus conjunct Neptune or perhaps a trine, then it isn’t going to be as uncomfortable for you. You might have been married for twenty years and yet still, somewhere in a tiny dark corner of your heart, carry a small flame for a childhood sweetheart, or someone who used to catch the same bus as you when you first went out to work, or… You see? The list of possibilities is immeasurably long. If, on the other hand, you have the square, it is likely to be almost unbearably uncomfortable. You will probably ache in those long, pre-dawn hours,  even with your spouse beside you, for that one, true love.

Neptune can blur the boundaries, fog up your reality, confuse your understandings, take you to the highest heights or pull you to the deepest depths. The key words for this particular combination of personal and outer planets, the danger signs, are disappointment and dissatisfaction. You may find yourself nit-picking, fidgety, confused about why you can’t just settle, can’t be comfortable in your skin, in your reality, in your relationship. Venus-Neptune holds before you an ideal: a holy grail of relationship, of perfect, spiritual and transcendent love. It is an ideal that no human being will ever be able to transform into reality for you, no matter how hard they try. You will have to accept, at some point, that your dreams are unrealistic, that your reality is good and fill that void, that hunger, with the spiritual, the divine, the creative. Human relationships are fallible, just as are their component parts. They need to be worked at. Socks need washing just as much as the deepest intimacy needs achieving.

The lesson for Venus-Neptune? Find a deeper meaning to your own life, something that fills that void for you. Stop looking elsewhere, dreaming far-distant fantasies and, as the song goes: Love The One You’re With.

How to attract a man with… (2)

… Venus in Libra

… Nothing is more important than your relationship. Nothing. Not breathing. Not eating. Not sleeping. Be warned, though, he may continue to seek out the “perfect” relationship, in spite of your protestations that you’re it. Work on your social poise and grace, but also on that fine balance between coolness and devotion. Balance. Get it?

… Venus in Scorpio

… Try to maintain an air of mystery and danger, both in and out of the bedroom. Above all, avoid the flip and superficial. He craves powerful and penetrating intensity and ruthless self-control. Alternatively a latex suit and a whip will do it!

… Venus in Sagittarius

… Talk enthusiastically about religion, philosophy and all the foreign travel you have planned. Espouse your love of athletics, horse-riding, archery and camping. Think Farrah Fawcett! Be good-natured and optimistic, friendly and bouncy. Just be his puppy.

… Venus in Capricorn

… Be an ambitious and tough career woman who does not suffer glass ceilings gladly. Serious and dedicated is the way to go. Be good at needing your own space, but try to avoid being too miserable.

… Venus in Aquarius

… Volunteer or join the Peace Corps! He’ll love your quirky and off-beat nature; your freedom-loving independence; your slightly rebellious non-conforming. Oh, just be a hippy.

… Venus in Pisces

… Sensitivity, kindness, compassion – but try not to be too disappointed or too much of a victim. Aim more for dreaminess than martyrdom. Try to embody the highest ideals of romantic love (smelly socks and general ickiness will lose him quick-smart).

Happy Hunting!

How to attract a man with…

(A Tongue-in-Cheek Look at the Venusian Qualities Desired through the Signs)

How to attract a man with…

…Venus in Aries

Be pioneering! Be bold and convince him that your plans are straightforward and uncomplicated: he need simply do as you suggest and all will be well. Don’t be backwards in coming forwards: tell him where you want him and he’ll be sure to follow.

…Venus in Taurus

Be stable, dependable and financially reliable. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You will not be aiming too high. He needs no short-cuts, but is happier for you to plod your way sturdily into his affections. He needs to know you’re his and his alone.

…Venus in Gemini

Be versatile. Multi-tasking is the way to impress. He is pathologically afraid of being bored. Keep the conversation flowing and stay active. You’ll have to keep him interested as he’s likely to be looking at your twin sister before too long.

…Venus in Cancer

Get baking. Take him home and demonstrate your wholesome nature. Show him how you’ll look after and protect him. Wear a pinny, feed him home-cooked food and tell him you can’t wait to get married and have babies.

…Venus in Leo

Be magnanimous and regal. Show him your leadership skills and organise his life for him. Inspire him to make more of himself. Always make more of a show than necessary. Spend more on him than you should and show off: he appreciates quality, after all. Oh, and tell him what a fabulous mane he has.

…Venus in Virgo

Be a neat-freak. Keep your surroundings and your person spick and span. Grow your hair long and look virginal. Above all, avoid being seen to be slovenly – practicality, an eye f0r detail and organisation are the order of the day. Oh, and be a virgin.

The remaining six to follow…