Virgo Vibes

As another birthday draws close, August sees the start of the football AND Virgo season – so batten down the hatches, this Boomer’s moon in Mercury is on the rise…

Photo by Guillaume de Germain on Unsplash

Do you remember that 1970s banger, ‘Float On’? To jog your memory it was recorded by the unoriginally named The Floaters (oh how I miss the simplicity of the ‘70s – please Splodgenessabounds take note!)?

For those reading this who are the latter half of Generation X onwards (I do have several god slash friends’ children who should at least be humouring me) it was basically a group of grown men crooning about star signs. I recall that there wasn’t a single Virgo among them. How did I know? Well apart that is from exhibiting unabashed shame, as Ralph declared himself an Aquarius, Charles a Libra, Paul a Leo and Larry proudly confirmed himself as a Cancerian! But there were other obvious signs, including but not limited to, little overthinking, several episodes of super lazy rhyming (‘let me show you how sweet it could be… sharing your love with L-a-a-arry’!) AND the cheesy dance routine was less than perfect.

The truth? I was secretly envious of their free form warbling – I would have been word- and step perfect to within an inch of my ‘practically perfect in every way’ lifetime endeavours.

My name is Sue… and I’m a Virgo –it can be thoroughly wretched at times and damn right exhausting. (‘Yes, for us too’, I hear my family and friends cry’    and I hear ya).

We’re a tribe, us Virgos.

So, how to tell me without telling me that you’re a fellow Virgo? Give me a moment while I overthink this…

• We have a Code Red situation when our petrol gauge tells us we have anything less than 220 miles left in the tank and fewer than 50 postage stamps of each denomination.

• In fact, thinking about it, we probably have more Code Red situations than the United Nations. These range from whether there’ll still be rotisserie chickens in the supermarket past 1pm to when will I get my dusting done this week.

• Virgo ‘icks’ are other people’s complete norm… we have more ‘icks’ than ticks… but do keep in mind when we’re beginning to really get on your nerves that us Virgos can’t live up to our own expectations so frankly the rest of you have a tough gig.

• My personal Virgoness is not restricted to UK. It’s a global phenomenon. My sweep of holiday apartments is a sight to behold. I have more ‘before’ pics on my mobile reminding me where things need to be put back slash returned to (family photos out – why do owners do this?) than I have of my own family.

• Show me your cushions and I’ll tell you whether you’re a Virgo. If you know you know and if you do know, you should be a Virgo even if you aren’t one!

• You’re an introverted extrovert. I’m less FOMO more FOG (fear of going!).

• You get obsessed with utter irrelevance. For instance, OUTNUMBERED. I adored this TV programme which was first aired in 2007 but it still bothers me why the little girl is called Karen – a name popular in the 1960s and 70s. The brothers have names more in keeping with the era in Jake and Ben, so why not Megan, Abigail or Olivia. It continues to perplex me.

• You’re good, bordering on obsessive, with details that interest you… but super impatient and offhand when they don’t. In considering this I concur with John Gray that men are most definitely from Mars and women are likely from Venus. I asked Mr. T what the Brian Cox programme ‘The Planets’ was about and zoned out sufficiently to have redesigned the layout in our lounge and considered changing the kitchen cupboard fronts before he had got to the ad break in episode 1!

• If you had a guest appearance on Desert Island Discs, your luxury item would be a Karcher!

That said, being born in September certainly has its merits. Being the oldest in the school year brings with it many firsts, such as learning to drive and legally sampling a Malibu and Pineapple or glass of Blue Nun – oh, don’t judge me…it was 1981!

I keep getting sent loads of Insta memes around how fastidious Virgos are – I can’t lie, they’re mainly from the long suffering and free spirited Sagittarian Mr T! Again, I hear you Mr T…

Maybe one day I will be able to cool my jets (or even control my jets… after I’d given them a good wipe over obvs!) if I don’t do a full shake and vac on a Friday…but frankly that’s about as believable as Myleene Klass and Jamie Redknapp wearing Sketchers Slip-ins!

There is however an exception to all of the above, a secret weapon, and this Virgo’s kryptonite. She’s called Mia, she’s 8 months old and she’s my granddaughter. That said, the stress of what to be called is almost crippling… why do people give indecisive Virgos a choice – haven’t I suffered enough…?

In the interest of self-disclosure, Mia is technically my step granddaughter (her dad Dan, my stepson).

To be clear, this is not an invite to a pity party – it really isn’t – but I sadly haven’t been blessed with my own children. We tried. Sadly six miscarriages (two ectopic), 3 lots of IVF and discussions around adoption later, I remain childless. This didn’t just affect us – my family and friends felt helpless and desperate for us too. It was a terribly bleak time. I consider myself a fatalist, accepting that most things happen for a reason and are part of a pattern that we don’t always see. Whilst I’ll go to my grave not understanding why, I’m at peace with it. My lovely mum in her protective, maternal attempt to normalise this for me always used to say’ well at least you’re not on your own – that lovely Anthea Turner is in the same situation’… and we were. I always thought that if anyone was interested in my autobiography (although I can’t think of any circumstance where that would happen – even in my busy and creative mind!) it should be called ‘Anthea and me’. Similar to my ‘dear friend’, I have a fabulous stepson, a wonderful nephew who my sister always says I co-parent with her (to be clear, for comedic effect only - my brother-in-law is a great dad and very present) and lots of children around me, whose company I nurture and cherish.

As that great philosopher of our time – Harry Bright from Mamma Mia the Musical – articulates so well, “there are all kinds of families aren’t there?” I should reveal at this point that I typed this then thought I’d better check its authenticity. Of course I did, yet another Virgo Vibe incoming! I found the quote and, what do you know, I was word perfect – well I guess I would be after ALL those theatre trips. In fact I’m beginning to wonder whether obsessive behaviour forms part of the Virgo Vibes. The weekly cheeky blo-dry, Mamma Mia the Musical 50 odd times, cleaning – I reckon there are worse things to be addicted to – aren’t there…well aren’t there?

So, back to Mia. Basically, none of the above apply to her. She could smear Weetabix up the wall and rub marmite into my cushions any day! I might be the house-proud person that my star sign imposes on me, but I hide it well…we are strictly a ‘NO shoes off household’, I absolutely DO NOT care. Look, I’m not saying that if you spill red wine on my best rug, that I won’t be eyeballing it and working out what I do the moment you leave, but I swear, this poker face would never let on!

I appear to be in very good company too – Elizabeth l, Mother Teresa, Shane Warne and the goddess of pop herself, Beyoncé, are all Virgos. On reflection, given her assertions that she’s “practically perfect in every way”, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mary Poppins is a Virgo too…

So let me just do a quick but thorough deep clean, wash the windows, declutter my wardrobes etc., etc. – and then just let this Virgo float on to overthink how to celebrate this year!

Footnote: … there’s an elephant in the room and it’s wearing Brook Running Shoes and Sweaty Betty Power Leggings. I’ve gone a whole blog and haven’t mentioned the London Marathon… or the FLM as my delightful friends and family now refer to it (… will leave you to work out what the F stands for, but fabulous it ain’t!). They think I don’t hear their huffs and see those eyes roll as they say “we’re very proud of you!” The only one who doesn’t seem to mind me talking about it these days is my Mia. We’ll park the fact that she’s 8 months old and if my recollections of the day haven’t lulled her to sleep, she has taken to grabbing my mouth and pulling it shut!

Noted!