Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #57: The Ace of Cups 1st -7th December 2014


“My cup runneth over!” It says that in the Bible, I don’t know who said it. It wasn’t Jesus or Moses or any of that lot. It’s in one of them Psalms or something. Whoever said it should have thought on before he filled his cup up so much that he couldn’t get it to his mouth without slopping it all over the place. I bet his ruddy wife wasn’t too happy about it. Especially if it was runnething over with red wine. That’s the Devil’s own job to get out of a nice white tablecloth, or out of the front of one of those white robe things they all used to wear in Bible days. Even carpets, although I don’t think that they had carpets in the bible. I might be wrong, but I think they just went for straw on the floor. Or was that just on the ward where Jesus was born. They had ruddy sheep and donkeys and everything in there. I know that the National Health Service is struggling these days, but at least they aren’t reduced to keeping sheep and donkeys on maternity wards yet. I suppose that it’ll come though if Cameron is still in charge after the next election.
Any road, the Ace of cups is a good card to draw when you are doing the tarot, because it means that you will do alright as far as health and relationships are concerned. The cup in the picture runneth over like a ruddy fountain with good clean pure water coming out of it into a beautiful, still pond with all lillypads in it. And look at that lovely dove flying into the cup. The symbol of peace and harmony.
And what is the dove holding in its beak? It looks familiar to me. I used to have a row of four of them on the kitchen wall, to poke the corners of my tea towels in when I had finished drying the pots. So the dove is symbolising the sort of domestic peace and harmony where your other half helps you with the pots, and then puts the teat owes away tidily when they are all finished.
I never experienced anything like that, myself. My Raymond was more likely to have spilled his drink all over the tablecloth and his shirt than to offer to help with the pots. It more likely have been Mackeson or some other dark beer than red wine, but I would have still had to do a ruddy boil wash to get them anything like properly clean.
I would also like to point out, for the benefit of my antipodean friend Bruce Goodman, that the part of the fluffy cloud that the hand holding the cup is coming out of looks a bit like a lady’s Mary. So I imagine that a few young men will be taking notice of that.
Four things that you might do this week. (i) Have a drink of nice pure water. It’s ruddy healthy stuff. And it’s very good for sherry headaches, which I have been known to suffer from, from time to time. Don’t bother forking out for any of that stuff in bottles though. The stuff that comes out of a tap is just as good. In fact the stuff in bottles comes out of a tap an’all, if the truth be known. (ii) get somebody to help you with washing and drying the pots. And if you haven’t got one already, get one of those things to push your tea towels in when you have finished. They do them these days with little sculptures of the back end of a dog on them, so it’s like pushing your tea towel into its arsehole. I suppose that some people find that sort of thing amusing. If you know anybody like that, why not get them one for Christmas. Such people don’t deserve much more thought. (iii) If your other half’s cup regularly runneth over, buy the dirty so and so a bib. (iv) Spend a bit of time cloud gazing. But have a bucket of cold water to hand to throw over yourself, just in case any of the formations inflame your carnal passions.