The only logical place to be today is in the sun. The skies have stopped dumping ice crystals and only a lump of cumulous sits anchored above, but it is cold. 
I’m very superstitious. If a black cat crosses the road in front of me, I will make a U turn, knock on wood and throw salt over my shoulder. I don’t walk under ladders or open umbrellas in the house. And I painted my front door beet red. But nothing is sillier than habitually reading a daily horoscope that has never been even remotely accurate. I’d be better off with the Ouija Board, Tarot Cards or even tea leaves.
A few years back I found out that, according the Chinese, my mother and I were both born in a Year of the Tiger. No wonder we were always at each other’s throats, I thought. We couldn’t help it. We’re impetuous, untamable beasts. So I decided maybe there was something to Chinese astrology that warranted looking into.
Didn’t last long. In 2017 tigers, whether born in 1926 or 2010, were guaranteed bodice-ripping, once in a lifetime, grand and passionate love affairs. Great news to my mother who was raring to go. But I greeted the news as one would an infestation of wasps. Actually, the wasps would be more welcome. 
But today is the Chinese New Year and so predictions are everywhere. Here’s one of the predictions for tigers in this Year of the Pig.
The Tiger needs to be cautious in dangerous situations such as walking in narrow dark alleyways in the evening, high places such as cliff tops, busy building sites or participating in dangerous activities. It is advisable for the fire Tiger to wear a red string around his/her waist for the year, or to wear red socks or underwear for support.
I guess this means I can dawdle down dark alleyways at night, do cartwheels on cliffs and pirouette through dangerous work sites as long as I’ve got on my magic red panties.
Saying nothing in particular 