Sun Sign Horoscopage: 5th – 11th April 2010

Monday morning on Correlation Street*, and it’s a tongue sandwich breakfast for Venus and Pluto, while brunch becomes a stage direction for Mercury and Mars, as they burn the last hot cross buns.

Scraping the crumbs out for the birds on Tuesday, Mercury discovers that the Lord of the Underworld pecking around under the forsythia, desperate for a taste of anything other than tongue.

Never a fast thinker, on Wednesday Pluto finally decides to do something about the mess that his life has become. As often happens at periods of intense personal change, he turns his back on the old crowd. Across a few garden fences, Saturn is unsettled to suddenly find himself staring straight into the eyes of the Lord of the Underworld. He quietly packs a case and moves back one, into the immaculate Virgo flat, and stays very still. And quiet.

Thursday’s Sun and Jupiter dare each other to get Pluto to turn around again. Wapping Meatloaf onto the stereo, they become Embarrassing Dads Dancing. Nobody else talks to them for the rest of the week.

Giving one last try to making Pluto turn around, Sunday’s Mars shouts every four letter word in his repertoire at the small, fierce one. Which is a lot of four letter words. It fails. I don’t think Pluto even hears him.

Meanwhile, Venus and Neptune borrow the stereo and spend the rest of the day arguing about which of them is a daydream believer, and which a homecoming queen. We could tell them.

*Yup, that’s going to have been done before, but I wasn’t able to find a reference to it astrologically. If you know if/where it has been, could you let me know?



Stock up on old shirts and stretchy knickers, in colours to complement green. Sew Stan Lee on a nametag inside each garment to remind you that you are the author of your own destiny. Avoid tight spaces and radiation-based nemeses. Being a monster doesn’t have to be monstrous. Throat pastilles will help with the roar.


What rhymes with guru? Schmuru, that’s what. This week is a good one for learning to be your own spiritual advisor. It might be a bit rocky at first, but keep at it. Things get easier once you remember to remove the finger cymbals when you go to the loo.


In the tub that pretends to be a pond in my back garden, the full stop frogspawn’s hatched into a muddle of wriggling hyphens. Next, they’ll fatten into commas and apostrophes, before sprouting a Cyrillic script of limbs, hopping off, and returning next year to spawn. Lifecycles, eh. According to Bills, you, Gemini, rule capillaries, pupils and butterflies. There’s something strange about that lifecycle I can’t put my finger on. Do let us know how the metamorphosis goes.


Your partner can’t make up their mind whether they are the unstoppable force or the immovable object. If they are so set on being obstructive, some consistency would be nice. From midweek you are less willing to compromise and more willing to search the local park for a secluded spot for a burial.


If you go to work there will be trouble. If you skive there will be trouble. Bills tells me you rule gin, so try staying at home and using your bathtub to set up a home business. It will introduce you to a whole new class of people.


Well, Mr Authority’s coming to stay. Bippitty boppitty boo. Have you noticed how it’s impossible to say that through gritted teeth without sounding like a ventriloquist dummy? Any hands up your bottom should be by invitation only.


Here’s a wand. Be your own damn fairy godmother.

You’re welcome.


This week, a piece on Gardeners’ World – which I watch because I am old and married to a Taurus — reminded me about ha-has. What a brilliant name. A ha-ha is a trench with one sloping side and one vertical side, sometimes lined in stone, for keeping cattle and sheep out of your garden. The beasts trundle, placidly munching, towards your world, only to find themselves up against a brick wall they never knew was there. Many of your associates would tell you this is a familiar feeling. This week, Scorpio, ha-ha peculiar is not ha-ha funny. Try to be nice.


It’s all in the timing this week, Saggy. Save that hard stare you want to give your boss until the other side of midweek. It’s the difference between penury and a positive result. If you are self-employed, use a mirror.


From Wednesday, you can stop trying to be nice. It’s a relief for all of us.


This is the best thing I read last week. A temperature probe on Cassini discovered that Mimas, one of your traditional ruler’s moons, is in fact Pac-man. Common sense is your temperature probe this week, Aquarius. Its judicious use will reveal where people are cooling to your ideas, the hotspots to tread carefully around, and uncover Titan’s Donkey Kong. I say.


When worried by big hands inside their tank, our stick insects have a few survival techniques: some climb as high as they can as fast as they can; some sway like a twig in the breeze (bit useless in a tank, that one); others fold up their six legs and pretend to be sticks; while still others feign death, dropping to the floor in a cataleptic rigor mortis that can last for hours. This week, Pisces, choose and perfect one of these techniques. Later in the year, when the universe pokes us all with a tentative forefinger, you’ll be glad you put in the time to drop and roll.




7 Responses to “Sun Sign Horoscopage: 5th – 11th April 2010”

  1. 1 Kristina April 6, 2010 at 10:30 pm

    “From midweek you are less willing to compromise and more willing to search the local park for a secluded spot for a burial.” I swear you must have a secret camera installed somewhere in my house 😉 I’ve also passed on your advice to our baby Sag re: her wee viking goddess face 😉

    • 2 distractedastrologer April 6, 2010 at 10:37 pm

      Hey Kris, it was the wee ‘un who told me to me to write about the viking goddess face. She scrutinised my very soul and laser etched it with her suggestions. Bet she does that to you too – what are the effects like up close?

      Much love (and use your best shovel).

      • 3 Kristina April 11, 2010 at 2:35 pm

        It’s a bit like having your soul flayed (I think she gets that from my side of the family!). Most effective, But as quickly as she turns it on, it’s gone and replaced with giggles and cavernous dimples 🙂


  2. 4 Karen April 6, 2010 at 11:35 pm

    ahhh thank goodness the tongue visual has finally departed! Therapy bill in the post xo

    • 5 distractedastrologer April 7, 2010 at 11:34 am

      Hello Karen, lovely to see you. I’m relieved to hear about the therapist as I’m a little concerned for you. Venus and Pluto’s breakfast was an actual tongue sandwich: slices of the tinned stuff, in jelly, in between two slices of Warburtons wholemeal, with a smudge of Utterly Butterly. Venus wasn’t too enamoured of it, but obliged the littlun.


  3. 6 Karen April 7, 2010 at 9:19 pm

    Oh dear! *LOL* I think I am actually blushing! Someone’s mind is in the gutter!

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