Aries 1° (March 21)

I think this will be the last day of hedonism for this year. Dave and Allison are coming over tonight and so I’m letting the timing be good. I tried to do some piano work on film but it was a bust. There was some take away in that I feel it is something I can do. I have four months now to make a draft of this book and that is going to have to be enough.

I am now in my seventh year of writing this Blague. Year six, I went through the first five years, and excerpted from five Blagues per day, as a way of taking inventory of what came before. If there are any blocks of text following this paragraph that would be from the corresponding day last, the sixth, year.

Needless to say I have never flown on a private jet as such. I have been on private jets, arranged by the same angelic friends who arranged our flight yesterday, just to get some short distance. But I think I just experienced a once in a lifetime thing: S. and I flying across the Atlantic on a plane that can seat twelve, with just a pilot, a first officer and a flight attendant. It was the smoothest flight I’ve ever taken and I didn’t have a single moment of anxiety as I have had on tinier jets and, certain, on jumbo ones, packed in like sardines. I cannot fathom the extent of the generosity with which this gift was given except to say that, would the circumstances have been reversed, I/we would have done the same for these very good friends of ours. Still it is gobsmacking to say the least. The terminal at Stanstead was Harrods Aviation. Like Harrods, with items for sale in the lounge from the shop. Even the tickets put on our luggage say Harrods. It was surreal. The captain came into the lounge to apologize. He was American and later said he was an army brat who grew up all over, which is exactly what Kirby, our flight attendant, said. Kirby was a trip. A gay silver fox who seems to be a devout Episcopalian, and we know this because, in discussing the corona virus, which we are trying to escape, he recounted going to church recently and taking the body of Christ. S. thought that made him Catholic but I was like uh-uh, he’s from the deep South, his name is Kirby, he is in no way a Catholic, which proved correct. I was on super light Bloody Mary’s until I was brought one I couldn’t drink as it tasted like Jet Fuel not Greygoose, and switched to a little wine to accompany lunch which for S. was chicken Saltimbocca and for me a Shepherd’s Pie. Kirby made up a bed for her and she went to lie down in back, though apparently didn’t sleep at all, as I watched Rocketman and then Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Both were pretty good, the latter being less enjoyable ironically.

And before you knew it there we were landing in Boston. It was almost hard to say goodbye to these people who personified our return. We were shocked at how hot and crowded the airport was and a bit guilty that we were being ushered by border patrol agents through passport control and then through a CDC checkpoint. They took S.’s temperature which was lowish and didn’t even take mine at all which was totally random. Meanwhile, leaving London, they had swabbed me randomly for traces of explosive. We felt a bit guilty getting special treatment but sometimes in life you just have to take the favors given you. The pilot then revealed that he could have actually flown us all the way to Provincetown if we wanted that—indeed we could hop right back on the plane now that we were cleared and do that. But we had a driver waiting, Jean-Paul who has chauffeured us before and Nançoise had had him stop at her house first to give us some groceries so we wouldn’t be left in a pantry lurch. There was nobody on the road from Boston and it was very strange indeed to arrive back on Cape to our usual reality. Unnerving really. I could only slightly unpack before eating a corn muffin G. had made us and climbing into bed. We forgot we had turned of the cable and were annoyed to find that the company had also turned off our wifi; so after some tetchy waiting on the phone to speak to a human we finally got everything turned on. We awoke at two in the morning and have been up ever since. We had some coffee and decided to do a major food shop as the stores opened in Orleans, opting for a smaller market, not a super one. There was plenty of food and we did a giant shop, not in a panicky way at all, but the kind of shop you do when you return back to the Cape after being away for three months. We then came back and did some more unpacking, of groceries and luggage, then went out again, back to Orleans, to get some fish and other things from shops that weren’t open the first time. We really thought we had to get a jump this morning and were at the shops, originally, at seven, way before anything else opened up. We are going to have one last hoorah of gluten—some linguine and clam sauce—and then get into bed and call it a day. It is already about eight o’clock at night for us.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. 

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go! Copyright 2021 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved. Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2021 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox.