Greetings, my bothersome bovines! Your past history is complex, is it not! No! Don't answer me! For pity's sake! Just accept everything I say without question. After all, there's only one prognosticator here, you know. And that's me! Asperitus, the oracle of bitter truth! And, on a prognosticatory note, your present is becoming more so by the minute (complex, that is).
Once upon a time you had been obsessed with water features, but that venture ended in calamity. Now you think you actually are one. Or at least you did so last time we left you. In fact, you were walking eccentrically, laughing when no one else could see the joke and squirting water with pinpoint accuracy onto parched plants. You named yourself 'Madam Spigot'. Even those who love you well (a definite minority) would glance askance in your direction and wonder if there were one too many bats in the belfry of Bull cathedral. So, here we are in manic March! What do the vile and bitters hold? Let us investigate, like good little cosmic detectives, working on a cosmic case!
Mischievous Mercury is first cab off the rank as he clashes with Pluto, dark lord of the underworld. You decide you won't simply sell water features and landscape gardening services anymore. You will run courses in meditation so that the public can imagine themselves to actually be the garden they want before they buy anything. Once their personal vision has been encapsulated in this 'new age' effort, you can go about the business of selling them everything they think they want whilst, of course, spitting water with pinpoint accuracy and walking eccentrically. You name the modules of this course 'navigating the S bend', 'be your own pressure gauge' and 'fountain dreaming'. This last is to become very popular in times to come.
Of course all this happens under the auspices of ghastly planets farting in nasty aspect. Suffice it to say that, by the New Moon in snivelling Pisces, this program is well underway and highly successful, though with mischievous Mercury in arrogant Aries and your solar twelfth house, you are talking to yourself a great deal more than usual. And a local church group has begun to picket your establishment, protesting the satanic rites they believe are carried out there. In fact, a parade of elderly persons with awful hats and mouths set like cats' bums walks up and down out front of your premises, though they are inconvenienced by having to duck your expert squirting. Marauding Mars and lugubrious Saturn are naturally responsible for this cosmic fiasco, as they are for the general run of hardship and suffering in your wretched lives. But then it is the serious business of cosmic pain begins!
Mischievous Mercury turns retrograde in Aries and your solar twelfth house. Eek! The great Sol Invicti enters arrogant Aries, inflicting yet another ghastly Equinox on a naughty world. Ugh! And marauding Mars creeps into Aquarius, the sign of the idiot god! Aargh! Thus do you give way to wild imaginings, shout loudly at people who aren't there and accidentally engage in a furious argument with a Swedish brewer, who then involves his nerve specialist in the altercation.
By the time of the Full Moon in loathsome Libra, you're overwhelmed by stress and find it hard to squirt accurately or read your own pressure gauge. And yet the odious public flocks to the aqueous courses you run and people with more money than sense bid for places in your fabulous 'fountain dreaming' module.
Great gods alive and dead, little bullish things! It's all too much for you, as it is, in fact, for me! I'll have to lie down. I'm feeling unwell. Do return here next month when I will have prepared some scathing comments on your S bend! Farewell!