Sun Sign Horoscopage: 25th—31st January 2010

Mercury wakes suddenly on Monday, spangled with cool nightmare sweat. He was at the lectern with a pile of notes in front of a crowded hall, but the crowd wouldn’t stop chattering to listen. Then he had a Special Delivery package to be signed for, but could not find it in his red post bag. Then he was on the train to London, but it only stopped at Northampton … then … then … then Venus pulled the curtains so as not to see that disgusting thing that Uranus calls a yoga pose.

On Tuesday, Mars bellows a demand to Mercury to bring over his Special delivery package, dammit. Mercury goes cold. Venus tuts at the noise, raising just an eyebrow to fix Mars with her cool, levelling stare.

The Sun opens the curtains Venus pulled, to let in … out … his light on Friday, lowering it again dead quickly when he realises that the Uranus yoga pose is a long one which illustrates his name. Annoyed and frustrated, he glares at Mars for the hell of it. Not sporting, really. Just wait ‘til the war god starts moving forward again in March, he’ll have his.

In the meantime though, the Moon tries to give Mars a reassuring cuddle, which quickly puts him in direct opposition to the Sun. It’s worse than kids.

All this time, Saturn and Pluto move slowly, appraising the other’s strengths and weaknesses, squaring each other off.


What a week: bicker, bicker, quibble. And that’s just the build-up to the weekend. Which is fascinating. Sunday evening there’s another hit of one of the year’s major themes: Saturn square Pluto. Disquieting to say the least, however, unless this slow mover is touching something specific in your chart (as the August hit is of mine) it’s a background societal influence, have you noticed the recent increase in security warnings? Preceding this, though, is an intense whumph of very personal disquiet: Moon conjunct retrograde Mars early on Saturday, followed within the hour by a full Moon in Leo. If you can, think for a bit before reacting, um, reactively. I’m going to plug the Feliway diffuser in on Thursday and let it run.

If you find this a week of ease and easy reward, you’ve got some seriously qualifying mojo going on in your chart.



There’s a growing conflict this week, between your desire to do what you want when you want and your obligations as a member of society. This will come to a head over the weekend; practise your lines before then to make sure you’re word perfect:

  • It’s not fair
  • You don’t understand
  • You can’t make me
  • I never asked to be born

Whether you holler these to the multitudes or scream them into your Hello Kitty pillowcase depends on how up you are for the restrictive repercussions: you might feel you’re too old to be grounded, but does the Universe agree? (Yeah, daughter, that would make me the Universe – okay young’un?)


When Kim and Aggie come knocking this week, it’s not for a cup of Darjeeling and a Bath bun. If a thing of beauty is indeed a joy forever, your home is currently Michael Winner. Your desk’s a state too. The weekend offers a rare opportunity for you do something hugely unusual: having a good clear out. Stock up on those extra-strong black bags with drawstring tops and fill every one. Double knot them. Take them to the municipal dump and never, ever look back. Not once, even for a regretful last glance at the stained April 96–June 08 copies of Pies! Pies! Pies! For if you do, your wife‘s hair will writhe and hiss and her eyes will turn you to stone. Verily.


You can see how things at work could be so much better. A new place to store paper handtowels here, a change of font there, I think you truly believe you’re putting an elegant persuasive case for selective alterations of the work environment. To them that decide, however, the likelihood is you’ll come across as The Great I Am. Of paper handtowel change. This week you just can’t win – even the no-spill vase of flowers you put in Reception will clash with shoes and activate allergies. Your frustration will vent at the weekend. Recreate your co-workers in black marker pen on punch balloons to fully express your opinions in private.


This week you discover a talent for firing laser beams from your eyes, after the team from Cash In The Attic flog your nanna’s Hornsea squirrel cruet for twenty pee and a two-finger Kitkat. Quick-thinking and a multipack of Bounty bars save the day and the cruet, but the smouldering ash of Jennie Bond leaves quite a mark on the parquet.


Enough is enough, but what can you do about it? Not a lot this week, Leo, as Molly succinctly points out, this is not a week for starting fights you want to win. And you want to win. However much better you’d feel if you had a good roar, at the moment success only comes from zipping your mouth and writing all your grievances down in your Little Book Of Revenges That Will Eventually Be Mine Sometime After 11th March  Bwahahahahaaa.


The lunatics have taken over the asylum and they are demanding their rights. For you, this involves spending many hours you can ill afford collecting blue shiny objects and arranging them beside the asylum gate in runic patterns that spell out bum and Peggy Mitchell. You’re right, no one else would do it, but does that mean that you should? Oh, and should you look up at the windows, don’t mistake an involuntary twitch for a saucy wink on Sunday.


It’s a one degree of separation week, Libra. Those current concerns of humanity which are background watercolour washes for most will affect you more personally. The relationship between macro and microcosm will be evident as world affairs come knocking for a borrow of your Fame DVD. Please check your garden shed for Osama Bin Laden, wave Ban Ki-Moon safely across the zebra crossing, and be ready to take your place upon a global stage


Naomi is lovely. A Scorpio Sun, for the last couple of weeks she’s popped up her head on the Distracted Astrologer Facebook page to regret that her forgotten places are still wintering despite my promise of spring, and that she doesn’t share my taste in music. Now, unless your natal chart is playing nice with the current transits, next week is a tricksy week for all, so my advice for Naomi goes out to all Scorpios: be contrary within the upheaval: find one small, quiet thing that you enjoy doing, and settle to do it. (And I’m not clarifying that any more, ‘kay Naomi? As Kit said: just go with it.)


After entering Pisces last week, your ruling planet, Jupiter, is being left pretty much alone this week, to twiddle his thumbs, pick his nose, and otherwise use his hands as he will. Take your lead from the old gas giant: if all around you are losing their heads this week, as they surely will be, drift off and away into a happy, dreamy, wibblywobbly world all of your own. Or get shitfaced.


Early in the week, Capricorn, practise opening large tins of spinach with your pipe. You’ll be grateful of the ability later on, when your keen sense of fair play is tested once too often, and you reach the end of your long fuse. You’ve had all you can stands, you can’t stands n’more. (Nice musc-cles.)


The world is a mess, says Dr Horrible in his sing-a-long blog, I just need to rule it. Aquarius, this is a week for feeling convinced that all the ills and muddles of Earth could be solved with the simple application of your sole rulership. It’s a passing aberration, don’t worry — give the conviction back to Scorpio when you’ve done, soon you’ll be back to believing all wrongs could be righted by a team … that you front. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a trusted other to hog tie you and feed you tinned custard from a spoon until it passes.


Yup, they’re all bastards. Yup, they take advantage of you because you let them. Yup. What are you going to do about it?


Sun Sign Horoscopage: 25th—31st January 2010

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