Astrology

It's surprising how many people, otherwise seemingly sane people, have found out we're having another baby in early January and have said 'oh, you're having a Capricorn, good luck with that', or 'hmm, a Capricorn they'll have a lot of energy and drive' (to which I was thinking, well someone in this family could do with some).

















Six months ago if you'd have asked me what star sign early January was, I'd have drawn a blank. I know Virgo (me), and Taurus (LK), and I know that Anna is a Gemini for the same reason that I now know creature #2 will be a Capricorn - because people told me. I also know that Virgo and Taurus are a good match, and hey we have 11 years of blood, sweat and tears to prove that.

I have this smug dismissive disinterest in horoscopes. Claptrap. This is despite the whole Virgo/Taurus lurve-match thing, and despite the fact that if I look up the characteristics of a Virgo (precise, meticulous, anal-retentive) it is ME, ME, ME (shrewd, witty, clever - seriously I'm just quoting the heavens....). Despite those uncanny accuracies I do not consult my horoscope, and will only read it if stuck in a doctors office with nothing better to do.




















Fortunately for me, my latest rounds of tests and appointments and general medical shenanigans have left me plenty of time to exhaust this month's supply of People magazines and move on to something different. In fact, I was so aware that I would be stuck with June's 'Parenting' magazine at yesterday's OB appointment that I thought ahead and packed my own *guilty pleasure* Hello! (As a side note it is ri-dic-ulously expensive over here, but I share it with a Danish lady who works across the hall from me, she buys it one week, I buy the other. Fascinating.). It was a good job I'd packed it too as Dr. Beaver was called away to an emergency C-section and I was there for nearly an hour.

Anyhoo. This was the gist of my horoscope for the week:

"Don't argue. Just do as you are told. Knuckle under. Acquiesce. Agree. Surrender. Why are you so reluctant? Show a little gratitude and humility. Bow, curtsey or touch your forelock. If you won't demonstrate due deference to your superiors, you deserve all the trouble and conflict you are likely to get this week".

Interesting?

My mother-in-law arrives tonight for a three week visit.

What the chuff?!! Likelihood of advice being followed: nil, but still, a little close to home I fear. Maybe there's more to this mercury ascending stuff than meets the eye.

What about you lot? What are you, and do you believe?

Move Over Destiny

Scribble Nation recently sent me a superb double CD 'A Rose is a Rose', a collection of great female musicians. Now I am to music what dub-ya is to world peace, but I am always interested in hearing something new. What I had not expected was to stumble on an old friend. Her collection rightly included a song by the amazing Nina Simone.

I think everybody has that one song, the one you played on continuous repeat for hours on end as it spoke so perfectly to what you were going through at that particular point in your life. 'I got it bad (and that ain't good)' is that song for me. Hearing Nina Simone on Scribble Nation's compilation was like a time-travelling punch in the gut, back to emotions I haven't felt in a long time.

I played it on continuous repeat for old times sake yesterday, and damn that's a good song. What's amazing to me now is how the lines 'Lord above me, make him love me' use to resonate with me. Had I no self-respect, no sense of self-worth? I suppose the generous response is, who honestly does have a solid sense of self-worth in their early 20s, but crikey, note to 20-year-old self - if he doesn't think you're the dogs bollocks, move on, and hit shuffle on that bloody CD player.

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to my former flatmates who probably hear that song now and have to fight an urge to open a cheap bottle of Rioja and fling it towards my bedroom door.

At the time, my friend and internationally famous flatmate S. tried to put things in perspective (oh so many times, and over oh so many bottles of wine). We were standing outside the Porters Lodge at College, and she flung out her arms in desperation and said 'Look Als, if he was your destiny, there'd be some sort of sign' - as he cycled past waving.

God it felt good to laugh.

So what's your song?

Signs Point To 'You're Buggered'

I just ran across a Magic 8 Ball while cleaning like a dervish for our guest's arrival. Our guest who was originally staying for 3 weeks and has now tacked on an extra 2 weeks.

I asked "Will our ******** real estate deal bankrupt us".

* YES *

What happened to "Reply Hazy Try Again?" or "No, Not In A Million Years, You're Quids In Mate"??

I have a feeling this is a trusty 8 Ball. If you have a question for it - post it in comments and I'll happily let you know.......

Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits

Hello November.

I'm going to give this NaBloPoMo thing an honest attempt, but I hope you realize that each of my posts is a carefully crafted essay, laboured over and lovingly edited? Nope? Well that should become fairly apparent in the next few days.

Here's the first in a stream of useless fluff to pad out the month.

My Nanna taught me that the first words you should say on the first of every month are 'Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits' if there's an R in the month and 'White Rabbits, White Rabbits, White Rabbits' if there's no R. If you manage to make that the first thing you say then you'll have a very lucky month. Provided you can spell of course.

This is made far more challenging when you have a small child and you don't wake up gently to sunbeams and the smell of freshly brewed coffee at 7:30am, instead waking up to a 28lb toddler clambering over you at 3:14am, using your neck and boobs for leverage whilst whining 'need Mummy's hair'. It can be a lot more challenging to say 'rabbits, rabbits, rabbits' and not 'get the fuck off me you parasitic little worm'.

I'd always had a sneaking suspicion that 'Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits' was something my Nanna had made up, something to distract me from my requests for a bacon sandwich at 7:06am on a chilly Manchester morning. Upon further research though, it's quite a widely-held superstition, confirmed even by Wikipedia. So Crikey it must be true.

Has anyone else heard of this? Is there anyone out there who will admit to equally ludicrous superstitions?

For the record I did manage to say 'Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits' this morning, although my first actual thoughts were 'crap it's November'.