RANT - What's my sign?

What's wrong with the universe, eh?

First, scientists tell us Pluto is no longer a planet. Do you know how many years it took me to memorize the sequence of planets stretching out from the Sun (or Earth, depending on which direction you're looking)?

And now, having spent a lifetime dissing Astrology, Astrologists, and anyone who puts any store in that whole fortune-telling mumbo jumbo, I'm told I'm no longer a Pisces!

Apparently (and most of this information comes from today's Washington Post), star signs were created some 2,000 years ago by tracking where the sun was in the sky each month. However, the moon's gravitational pull has slowly moved the Earth in its axis, creating about a one-month bump in the stars' alignment. Therefore, during what we think as the month of Pisces, the sun is actually in the sign of Aries.

So, having spent my life studiously ignoring the fact that, by being born March 9, I was a Pisces (allegedly intuitive, imaginative, unworldly), I'm actually an Aquarius (a water carrier, whatever that means).

For those of you that use the "what sign are you?" chat up line in a bar, or at the supermarket, or wherever your desperate search for love takes you (and I'm not just talking about you Gareth), the new dates and signs are:

Capricorn: January 20 - February 16

Aquarius: February 16 - March 11

Pisces: March 11 - April 18

Aries: April 18 - May 13

Taurus: May 13 - June 21

Gemini: June 21 - July 20

Cancer: July 20 - Aug. 10

Leo: August 10 - September 16

Virgo: September 16 - October 30

Libra: October 30 - November 23

Scorpio: November 23 - December 17

Sagittarius: December 17 - January 20

Do you need to change your resume, your devastating chat up lines, or (even harsher) your tattoo?

Or do you continue as normal, confidently assured that Astrology is about as scientific and relevant as chicken giblet analysis? I think the latter.

It reminds me that just a couple of weeks ago when Pavey, Felicia, David and I were in a wonderful restaurant in Cabo San Lucas, a guy came around after dinner with a little birdcage housing a pair of cute canaries. As each of us gave our star signs, one of the birds would hop out of the cage, pluck a tiny piece of folded paper from a box, and present to the bird-meister. He then gave us each our 'fortune'.

Poor man. He now has to completely re-train those little birds!