Ready for Kent

Another  excursion, this time in celebration of a 70th birthday in the family.  I am taking my good camera, so doubtless rain will descend the moment we step out of town. Still, I have lovely memories of Ashford - last time we were there, we met a zulu prince over guinness, pies and the history of the Martini Henry.

I am being very remiss in dealing with Mark's writing, because there is so much of it and because I am a bit low on energy. The novel he wanted me to finish may - I am not sure yet -  actually be stronger as the short story from which he developed it.  And he has a massive amount of work. I am at a slight loss as to what to do, but increasingly an omnibus edition, a collection of all his writings excepting The Magonia Stone, seems the most practical way to bring it to public attention.

Silly amounts to do today but still very tired. It occurs to me that this entry could not be less aptly named; clearly I am not ready for Kent. I am still exhausted and on my fourth cup of coffee. I honestly think the combination of exasperation with Mum and parties outside my hotel in the Plaza Del Carmen knackered me more than I realise. So I allow myself one more half hour, in which I will whitter on.

Here then, is a place I have always wanted to buy in Granada.
It overlooks the plaza, but is on the corner of what seems to be '[...]Delgado' (I always forget to check when I'm there) but has a totally different name on the city maps. I like it because it seems just the perfect place for the Master to have hidden once he finally got over the Doctor. Plus, he could have handled the parties outside with far more stamina and aplomb than I could.

Donald and the Head of the Demon

There is a branch of astrology called Horary, in which you ask a question,cast a chart and get some kind of answer. It's been around for a very long time, but the guy who made it his own art was William Lilly, a seventeenth century practitioner who got involved in the civil war and all sorts of shenanigans.  I learned about horary at the studio, and on a caprice decided to try such a chart for Donald Trump's fate in the American election.

There's all sorts of bits and pieces you're meant to look at before attempting to judge a chart. One is the moon doing something funky called going 'Void of Course.' Most astrologers give it one clear definition, and according to that, Void of Course moon is very specific in an horary chart; it means Nothing will come of The Matter, so the questioner can stop right there, shrug and make themselves a cup of tea.

If this definition  is adhered to, well, that's exactly  is happening in the chart, so bang, he's out no question.   There is a much rarer definition which, if correct, would imply he'll do rather well, though things will get weird in ways surprising even to those who anticipate drama.  Astrology; you can probably find any answer you want.

But the names of the stars and their stories remain fascinating. There is the point at 'the top' of every person's chart called the Medium Coeli, which mean 'Middle of the Sky' and denotes, career, aspiration, pinnacle, and any important planet or star that is 'close' to that, should be taken seriously. Now, the Donald's MC hits an important star, the most notorious in the sky... Caput Algol, called also Ra's al Ghul, Rosh Ha Satan,the Head of the Demon, the Medusa's Head,Lilith, the Blinking Demon (it is an eclipsing binary),  and, from the Chinese, the Piled-up Corpses. Caput Algol is not a cheery star.  Once upon a time no battle leader who listened to his court stargazer would instigate a battle when Algol's light was weak. He would want those piled up corpses to be on the other side. But more generally the star was considered a mischief maker, with a connection to people who lose their heads (damage to the head is another theme) though due to its link to the Gorgon and Lilith it was also specifically thought to indicate very dangerous women.

Donald Trump is the kind of guy to send soothsayers scuttling towards Hillary until they looked at the lunar nodes, which indicate fate, destiny etc. In her chart, they land pretty much on top of Donald's MC, both of them nigh on equally close in approach to the Gorgon's head. Better for Hillary than for Donald, because the star traditionally prefers the ladies though it makes them as fatally bonkers as their male counterparts. For all our sakes and  sanity  these two should never breed. Though I admit, if they ever tried, I might have to watch out of sheer macabre fascination,

So what is the answer? Bernie?  In his chart, Saturn, the great planet of discipline, order, hardship, teaching and restriction parks itself...very close to Caput Algol. Not as close, and it's leaving rather than approaching the remit of the Blinking Demon, but still... Ancient astrologers would be hyperventilating and checking for gigantic horsemen in the sky.  And what can we do? Forget astrology, tis a fool's headache. Medusa's just a story and this is just a story too. Time to grab some popcorn and watch the show.