Ach, poor old Saturn. Worry is his default emotion since moving back into Virgo’s neat three-up two-down last week, and Monday is made to stir his worry pot. First off, he’s disappointed when Venus backs down on her promise to pop round with some paint charts. She thought she’d made a casual, if-you’re-not-too-busy-with-your-pilates-and-Jeremy-Kyle maybe, not a promise. Feeling frustrated by the greater wrongs in the world, Saturn rings Chiron. Together they set to making just one small thing better, by fixing some of the tattier bits of Correlation Street. At least, they would if they could get the paste table up.
Uranus and Neptune find the abandoned paste table on Tuesday. They turn it upside down and spend a happy few hours pretending to sail away to the land of the radioactive robot aliens. They are relieved that Pluto isn’t around to butt in: radioactive robot aliens make such a pleasant change from zombies.
The Sun and Moon meet briefly on Wednesday. Just long enough to distil one drop of pure energy, which they pop in a Marmite jar and put at the back of the top shelf. You never know when it’ll come in handy.
Saturday’s Pluto stomps around for someone to play zombies with. It’s the weekend, after all, what better way to unwind than to pretend to be the rotting undead. Venus tries to oblige, she really does, but her red bandanna and glinting gold tooth tell Pluto that she’d rather be off playing pirates with Johnny Depp. The little grumpy one stomps away to glower. Seeing his chance, Jupiter invites Venus for a pint of grog and a glimpse of his salty seadog.
The Sun makes the most of Arien energy on Sunday by helping Uranus and Neptune build a sail for the paste table, out of an old shower curtain and a bag of liquorice bootlaces. Hearing the fun, Mercury decides to go back for a look.
Wednesday has a potent Aries new Moon. Plant a spring wish for whatever you want to grow.
A midweek wish for a shiny red racing bike brings positive results but no helmet. Good job the weekend is on foot. Stuff your rucksack with high energy snacks, lace your boots good and tight, lead the way, and don’t let anyone kick the map into the river. Night time noises outside your tent are just high jinks, and I’m sure whatever it is that made those funny twig and moss human-like figures dangling from the trees will appreciate you retying their slipshod granny knots as far more appropriate buntline hitches. Avoid fingerpaints, unflattering camera angles, windowless houses, and don’t let anyone turn their back on you.
Innocent attempts to fix the office loo or put up a shed this week will have repercussions enough to bring down world superpowers. Sit on your hands as your practise your Frank Spencer impersonation, Taurus, and hope it’s still a bit early for butterflies in China.
Keep your hat pulled down and your hands in your pockets. Whistle softly to yourself. Carefully check the perimeter fence for possible escape routes: is that patch of earth soft enough to tunnel? Could you throw a blanket over the razor wire at the point where the searchlights don’t quite meet? Is the fence electrified or could it be snipped? Do nothing yet. Most importantly, make sure that nobody suspects you are doing anything more than enjoying a solitary stroll.
Things are as strained as the last Bank Holiday teabag on its desperate, eighth dunking. Take dessert into work on Wednesday. Nothing woos doubters like a choice of lemon meringue of toffee cheesecake, and they can’t bitch about you with their mouths full.
The pressure’s on someone else during the week, Leo, and if your weekend isn’t fabulous, you’re doing it wrong. Sign nothing less than a nipple.
It’s like déjà vu all over again, says Sidney in Scream. (And that’s the first Scream, goodness knows how many déjàs she’ll have vuing again and again by Scream 3. I don’t, I haven’t seen it yet.) This week, Virgo — with Saturn backed up into your sign, and your ruler slowing down and turning around — you’ll gradually begin to understand that what seems like Sidney’s tautological overkill is in fact a considered and precisely accurate use of language. Things will begin to déjà vu, all over again. (And if you’ve seen Scream 3, please hush.)
Just tell them you can’t be arsed. If it’s all a bit tangled, try out a Wednesday lunchtime wish to not need to be needed. One thread at a time.
Make a Wednesday lunchtime firewish to jiggle the innards of your old routine. Intrepid, you are.
This week, the clawed paddy-paw of the regular nine-to-five flicks at your twitchy whiskered cheeks. Sneaking a naughty midweek interlude gets you through to the weekend, which is looking very good indeed. If you get that far.
Put right Monday’s wrong on Tuesday. Find a quiet space inside Wednesday to speak a wish aloud. All the wicked little pixies will work your wish for you with their little pixie hammers. You’ll find the results at the bottom of your bed on Sunday morning.
This failure in communication is for you this week, Pisces (safe for work). Watch those mixed messages, or people will laugh in abbreviation while you drown. Alternatively, some people might dive in to save you from giggling, but not the ones you would like to see in Speedos.
Getting ready for some New Moon planting. Somehow Leo gets in on the act. Every time, Leo, every time.