England has existed as a distinct “entity,” just as Ireland, Wales or Scotland have- for who-knows how long? (answers not required). Before these oft’ antagonistic neighbours amalgamated into an entity in 1801, England’s natal-chart was dated to the 2nd Magna Carta, and astrologers’ referred to that seminal chart in order to understand their own eras- it worked just like magik is supposed to until 1801. All of a sudden (as it were) when the monarch granted royal assent to the brand-new United Kingdom’s formation, at midnight on New Year’s Day, 1801, the ancient, tried and true, dog-eared chart for England was put away in the bottom of a locked drawer in a dusty library in some stately-home or-other, as the brand new nation- the UK- was born.
UK Westminster Jan 1 1801 1200am
In the halls of the “Old-Guard,” it was as if overnight, the pedigree British Bulldog was transformed into a mixed-race mongrel, a downright juvenile upstart- the venerable Blighty had suddenly been made junior to the upstart USA- too much to bear, dear boy. It must have seemed somehow like an injustice, a demotion, to many a proud Englishman and his wife & domestic servants, whom- as a class probably feared that this new-thing would somehow negate the heroic past, undo history, blot-out noble and ignoble deeds alike, the ancestors, kings and queens, the lot. But nothing can take away what has gone before, silly Billies- aside from history-editing totalitarian states, of-course. The UK’s brand-new spirit- with its new horoscope, was simply opening another chapter in a very-old book- nothing to fret about.
Any accurate chart takes full account of history- and of course, the UK's 1801 natal-chart fully accounts for both the illustrious & the- ahem- conveniently forgotten histories. All astrologer’s refer to the 1801 chart to look at what’s really going down in government, or the counties, or towns and villages- and among the natives. Incredulous folk, and as far as I can tell, that’s the vast majority, snicker and roll their eyes skywards when anyone proposes that the timing of the UK’s formation “moment”- midnight, Jan 1st, 1801, Westminster, London, was not simply any old date in any old year, but was very-deliberately chosen by someone-or-other with the qualifications of a “High Druid” - or someone like that- but that’s not why we're here.
Whitstable, aka “the bubble.”
I came across this old map online, showing precisely (more-or-less) what was where the town is today, circa 16th & 17th centuries. At that time, there was no town to speak-of, just one landscape feature labelled on the map as “Whitstable Street,” corresponding to what we call the High Street today. It was and still is a “high-street,” that-is, a natural-promontory or minor-peninsula that just broke the surface of the surrounding water, allowing dry feet for wayfarers as they made their way to the shoreline, where the “horse-bridge” lay. A dozen or two dwellings were crammed tightly together along the east-side of Whitstable Street, while a handful or two stood on the other-side of the road, and that was about the extent of it.
Is That It?
Wagons and carts driven along the “Salt-Way” to and from Canterbury would pass through the extensive “hundred” of Whitstable to load their cargos at the Horsebridge (salt, shellfish, fish, etc). Thus, where the map’s label delineates “Whitstable Street” meaning “the high street in the hundred of Whitstable,” in no-way does this suggest the presence of a town at that time- a settlement by the side of the road might be the most appropriate description.
Whitstable Hundred however extended roughly a mile west from Westgate Towers in Canterbury, and 7 miles north to Swalecliffe beach, and then six miles or-so east to Seasalter- and 7 miles back to the River Stour and Westgate Towers in Canterbury. Everything within that area was called Whitstable- that’s how large Whitstable was.
Your’s humbly is not trying to be controversial but, to this parochial mind, the “town” we know and adore as Whitstable, really came into existence at the end of WWI, in 1920. The cenotaph outside the library memorialises more-than the fallen warriors whose immortalised names are engraved thereon. WWI truly marked the end of an “old-world.”
War Is Over
There’s another commemorative monument erected in the bubble in the same year, 1920, a diminutive grey stone in the style of an ancient Egyptian “stele,” marking the birth of the post WWI new-era- as-well-as- in my opinion- the birth of Whitstable. Many- if-not-most- "locals," have no idea it's even there- in the green apron at the junction of Railway Avenue and Station Road.
Stele Of Revealing
Same Old Place...
During my brief span of life here in town I’ve personally witnessed the almost miraculous transformation that’s come-over the town. Which is itself quite phenomenal when you see how nothing has substantially changed in Whitstable since the time the builders' installed the cenotaph in 1920- an image showing the High Street in the 1920s (somewhere-nearby) demonstrates this easily. The town looked exactly the same as it does today. Show me another town like this where, decade upon decade, nothing appears to change.
Old Bubble c. 1920s....
At-least on the surface. The fact that unchanging Whitstable suddenly became an irresistible magnet to everyone and his aunty is what sparked my Scorpionic curiosity in the first-place, partly because there wasn’t- and still isn’t, anything here to attract anyone who’s familiar with seaside resorts anywhere in the UK- no fun-fair, no slot-machine arcades, not even a grain of sand nor a donkey-ride on the beach, and until recently, very recently in fact, there was barely an hotel or b-n-b in the entire town for visitors. But still they came in their droves, even in winter, to do nothing but walk up and down the promenade and just BE HERE. The mystery of this attraction was slowly driving me round the Herne Bay Bends, it seemed that no-one but little-old-me wondered about it nor, obviously, had any answers, let alone clues. Left with no option I looked into it myself, through the starry-frame of reference, astrology.
It might be said that your’s parochially is an anorak when it comes to “the bubble,” Which is the reason why, when illustrating the “stele-of-revealing” in Station Road, I could hardly resist doing what any astrologer should do, and noted the date of the “cutting of the first sod” ceremony, and after much consideration (at-least 20 minutes) concluded that such ceremonial moments as “sod-cutting” represent or stand-for birth-moments of important or significant things- ships for example, or nations, states and permanent national-unions such as the USA or UK- in the bubble’s case, houses and homes.
But not just any-old houses, of-course- these “Homes For Heroes” were among the first-fruits of the new era. The domestic situation in Britain straight after WWI looked so dire that it now became, for the first time in British history, the direct responsibility of the Government to ensure that all of the People had houses and homes to live in. A new era dawned. And it first happened right here in the Hundred of Whitstable, and thus, this town we now know really came into existence.
The date and place of 7th April 1920 at Whitstable are the “givens,” already a rare-enough thing for any town to possess- accurate knowledge regarding its own provenance; however, this is not detailed enough data for an astrologer to draw-up an accurate birth-chart- the details absent from the commemorative stele (glaringly), are the important ones- the actual time of the “first-sod” ceremony. But that wasn’t the worst of the issues facing your intrepid reporter.
You may or may not be aware of my previous scribblings regarding the astrology of Whitstable, scribblings that supposed, surmised and deduced that the sign of the crab, Cancer, has more-than a powerful influence on this little seaside town. I’ve since published a number of articles, both online (Hubpages.com) and in print, laying-out the logical-case for what is, after-all, an entirely intuitively founded astrological analysis. Whilst I stand firmly by those former perambulatations into the unseen forces that surround Whitstable- aka Whitsta-bubble, it was all based on intuition + logic. There was no definitive proof, so-to-speak- but now there is!
On the seemingly tricky matter of timing the “sod-cutting” event- of course, no civil-ceremony ever takes place at Sunrise, for no-one would show-up at that time of day with a shiny ceremonial-spade for his lordship- however, when the true time of a given event is unknown, the usual thing is a Sunrise chart. So, a tentative horoscope was cast for Sunrise on the 7th April 1920.
Who on Earth had such knowledge and power? Well- it's not too difficult to come-up with an idea or two about that, when you look around the place a little. The clues are less easy to spot on ground-level- they’re all around but anyone can pass them by a million times and never notice a thing- I did. But no-one’s limited to ground level viewing nowadays, free “applications” such as Google-Earth are even available on most smart-phones, making the “bird’s-eye-view” of anywhere as easy-as-pie. Seen from above, those pesky clues stand-out like sore-thumbs.
The Google-Earth image shows the stele’s location( marked as “plinth” on my map)- on one corner of a diamond, directly opposite the diamond’s-corner site of the Masonic Temple, on the junction of Diamond Road and Cromwell, at 150 Cromwell Road.
Given the clues above, it’s no stab in the dark to suppose that the Freemasons had something or other to do with the stele. As you can probably see in the image, atop the stele itself is what looks like a house-brick, left-over from one or other of the additional, recently built dwellings. But on closer inspection it’s clear that this “house-brick” is a bit too lumpy for a house brick, a bit misshapen, too large. Most casual passers-by assume, as I did, that this spare brick is not really meant to be where it is, casually or carelessly “dumped” atop this most modest commemorative stele.
But if that were so, how come nobody ever takes it away and clears the place up? The fact is, concerned citizens from out-of-town often do take the brick and dump it in a bin. But should they pass by again next day they’ll probably feel quite perplexed that somehow, that old spare brick has ended up right back there on top of the stone.
11 X 16 =
51 - 150....
Even folks that have little inside-information regarding the Freemasons- like myself- have gleaned enough tit-bits of occult-baloney to know that useless and rejected building-stones have particular significance to one particular guild of builders, the Freemasons. Well.., go figure it- they’re into that sort of thing.
Apparently, the Freemasonic fetish for old rocks stems-from a well-known passage in the Bible, and somehow became central to their philosophy, psalm 118:22, which reads “The stone which the builders refused is become the headstone of the corner.” We’ll come-back to the supposed meaning of the psalm below.
And there are the perfect-proportions of the stele itself to consider. It’s 11” x 16;” which corresponds to the “golden rectangle,” with the proportions 1/1.68. When it comes to arcane arts, there are no coincidences, and all is coincidence. Another strange coincidence that can be no coincidence is the resonance between the street number of the Masonic Temple, 150 Cromwell Road, and the first “word” on the “Stele Of Revealing,” the number 51. Why are there 51 houses built in the scheme and not, for example, 52, one house for every week? But no, the “builders” (builders = masons) decided on 51 houses, and placed the Masonic Temple at 150 Cromwell.
Graystone Temple, 150 Cromwell
Obviously then, the numbers 51 and 150 are somehow meaningful to that particular builder’s guild. We’ll investigate these numbers in a little more detail below. I scoured the data on the stele in the search for further clues- but as I said above the most important piece of data from the astrological perspective- the time of day- was completely absent. We have the date: 7th, the month: 4, and the era 1920. At the risk of boring the life out of you with what may be considered “hippy-drivel” by the squares (man), numerology is one of those very useful keys- like astrology- to understanding reality. It’s easy. In-short, with basic numerology we simply add the numbers together, thereby reducing long numbers to short numbers (more-or-less). The resulting number reveals the inner nature or soul of things.
10am 7th April 1920 Whitstable
Thus we add the date: 7, to the month + 4, = 11; + 19 = 3(0); + 2(0) = 50. This is very-nearly the third repetition of 51- and this numerical “near-miss” reveals a way to discover what time the ceremony occurred- and enable an accurate chart to be drawn. Going-by the 24 hour clock, there’s only one time in any day (during daylight hours) that could lead us to the number 1, that being 10-o-clock in the morning, as 10 = 1.
So when we factor-in the time of day as 10am, 7th April 1920, we arrive at the third iteration of that number:- 10/1 + 7 = 8 + 4 = 12 + 19 = 31 + 20 = 51.
Hopefully, readers’ who’ve come this far through the paragraphs are not die-hard Christian types with hair-trigger knee-jerking sensibilities. If so, either take a calm pill before reading any farther or close this heathen article right now- and ne’er return. Your’s Sincerely is certainly not in the business of sensationalism- but we now have the necessary elements to conjure up the devil! Only jesting, honestly, it’s just that 5 + 1 repeated thrice, is 6 plus 6 plus 6. Hum Ho... Should this shattering revelation fail to convince anyone that a horoscope for Whitstable drawn-up for that time on that date is bona-fide, valid and reliable, there’s little else I can do.
However, by doing the numerology on the stele in a subtly different way, a meaningfully alternate result can be found: 10am on 7th April 1920: 10/1 + 7 = 8; + 4 = 12; + 1 9 = 31 + 20/2 = 33. Everyone knows (don’t they?) that- for whatever reason, number 33 and the Freemasons are bedfellows, synonymous, inseparable.
Assuming that the Masonic Temple of 150 Cromwell Road is named The Graystone Lodge (as emblazoned on the Sea Cadet Minibus in the temple car-park), then the true significance of the stele in the green apron begins to emerge. The “apron” site of the stele itself is a clue, for the Freemasons’ Apron is a vital element in Freemasonic lodges and their ceremonies- it’s like a badge of office. This must all be of some significance to the members of the Graystone Lodge, methinks.
Let us go back in time (Twilight Zone intro-music) to the days when the ground where the stone, the recreation-field, the 51 homes-for-heroes and the Masonic Temple now stand, were a couple of feet beneath the salty-brine twice every day- for this land was a tidal-delta, completely exposed to and open to the sea on one side, and constantly streaming off the downs to the south, the Gorrell Stream meandering freely, forming transient lakes of brine here and there, never quite flushing the salt back to the sea. That was more-or-less the murky scene in the bubble not so long ago. Canny locals made the best out of the environment, laboriously constructing low sea-walls of heavy-clay to trap pools of brine and allowing the water to evaporate, leaving behind sea-salt. Salt production was the main means of earning an income here in no-man’s land- a relatively valuable commodity for many centuries. The makeshift clay sea-defences were breached or washed away entirely every couple of decades or so, and would be laboriously rebuilt again, and again.
Grey Stones & Alchemists...
Thus it would have remained without the timely intervention of Alchemy. In the 15th century, a Dutch Hermeticist came ashore at the foot of Tankerton Cliffs. This writer assumes that Cornelius Vos, who later changed his name to Cornelius Stephenson, had come to visit his fellow Hermeticists whom collectively dwelled at the “Hermyge,” or Hermitage, at St Anne’s Well by the crossroads.
* (This amateur-historian also believes that the “Hermyge” and the wizened ones who dwelled there, is the real origin of the name of the Hundred of Whitstable, originally written as “Witanstapol,” and variants thereof, where the prefix “witan” signifies a congregation, guild, group, society, church or brotherhood of the eld (elders), the wise, magi, etc). If you have eyes to see, the “stapol” where the eld gather- the witan- is currently located at 150 Cromwell Road.
The grey-stone stele links Whitstable’s founding “progenitor” (an alchemist) to the modern presence of Freemasons and the “Royal Arts” in Whitstable.
The meaning behind the “stone the builders refused” also refers to the art of alchemy and the concept of the “philosophers’ stone,” in that the reference to a rejected stone recalls the idea of the Philosopher’s Stone, made-up of materials that are commonly rejected or abhorred, but praised as the roots of philosophical gold by alchemists. Cornelius Vos, the alchemist who founded the “vitriol” plants on Tankerton foreshore, was the first in a long line of hermetic-Freemasons whom, after Vos, became the Lords of Tankerton Manor. The massive income from the Vitriol works paid-for the first concrete defences against the sea- primarily to protect the industrial plants- and the accidental or collateral process of drying-out the Gorrell Delta began.
It follows from all of the above then, that the information gleaned from the stele is legitimate birth-data. The symbolism associated with the stele tells us that to the guild of builders, the whole-town of Whitstable is actually a Star Temple! The town we are all familiar with was ritually conceived and built. The information within the birth-chart itself tells us pretty-well the same thing. For me personally, the great-mystery of why Whitstable is what it is has been, for the most-part, put to rest. Ultimately, this means that there’s nothing “accidental” about the bubble’s apparently universal attractive force. It was designed to be this way- & no mistake.
So, with reference to the horoscope, all that remains is to lay-out the main features and details in the chart, tho’ this is not the ideal place for interpretations. So, Whitstable’s Ascendant is in Cancer (your’s etc, was right all-along); Sun is in Aries, 10th house; Moon (ruler of the ascendant sign) is in Sagittarius, 5th house; Mercury is in Pisces, also 10th house; Venus is with Mercury, also in Pisces, 10th house; Mars is in Scorpio (which he rules) in 5th house; Jupiter is conjunct with Neptune in Leo, 2nd house, Saturn is in Virgo, 3rd house, opposite Uranus in Pisces, 9th house, and Pluto is in our rising-sign Cancer, just above the horizon in the unseen 12th house (Pluto was first documented in 1917, but was lost again until being confirmed in 1930)
Finally, it doesn’t need a genius such as me to tell you that on 7th April 2020- at the start of the National Cock-Up- the Bubble almost celebrated being a century old! Drat, says I, and immediately shelved this little scribbling, slightly perplexed at it all. So, no-one got to find-out what your’s diligently had found-out, as it were, until now. Thus, the one and only Bubble is coming up to 101 years young on April 7th 2021! Hurrah! Whether or not anyone will be allowed to celebrate anything at all is a matter for debate at this time, but I certainly hope so. I promised myself not to mention the “C” word here, but I have to.
Magpies and Crows
Those magpies, crows, rooks et al- otherwise referred to as “corvids,” have got a lot to answer for. Well.., it’s probably not the corvid’s fault that modern folk pay no heed to the old lore. If they did, all this lockup and lockdown nonsense wouldn’t have even happened. If you pay the magpie due respect by greeting and saluting him, spitting on the ground and turning widdershins thrice, while solemnly intoning these word: “Good morning Mr Murgatroid, how’s the wife and kids?,” then all will be well with you and your’s.
Evidence of the airborne danger (for which no mask can help) is to be found in the collective nouns of corvids, for example: a murder of crows, a Parliament of rooks, an unkindness or conspiracy of ravens- but the most telling epitaph goes with our pied friends: a Mischief of magpies. And mischief is clearly what’s been going on- for magpies exist all over the world!
Now, I understand that some of you might think that I must have misread or misheard the News reports about some disease doing the rounds, something called “covid 19,” but I assure you most sincerely that I know what I’m on-about. I’m trained in these things. You simply take that letter they keep emphasising, the “R,” and insert it into “covid,” thus: “corvid.” See? Not only that, the Govt’ spokespersons tell us how many corvids there are- 19.
As shown above, we numerologically reduce 19 by addition, 1 + 9 = 10/1. Oh dear! I’m sure we all know the formerly superstitious (now scientifically proven) rhyme, it goes: 1 for sorrow, 2 for joy, 3 is a girl, and 4 is a boy, 5 for silver, 6 for gold, 7 is the secret, never to be told; 8 is a wish, 9 is a kiss, 10 is a bird you must not miss! So there it is in black and white- like a magpie. The saving-grace in this whole messy matter is that whilst 1 magpie (for sorrow) can easily come about with a negative attitude, with positivity 19 can easily remain at 10, where the bird you must not miss is less of a doom-laden prophesy - it might even be thought good. You might think this scribbler has gone doolaley with “docile-distancing” and selfish isolation and what-not, but that’s not true. This is how all genius’ exist. After all, I’ve just solved the whole pandemic crisis with one paragraph. Pay the magpies their due respect and no need for any vaccination will arise. I’ve been kept safe all this time by saluting corvids- it’s only sensible.
And on that inspirational note, until we meet again, stay healthy. Fen Lander