Author Archives: Steve Morgan

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About Steve Morgan

Occupational Therapist since 1986, Case Manager since 1990, Author since 1993, Consultancy since 2001. Launched a blog from 2013, a podcast in 2014, and YouTube videos from 2017.

All that Jazz!

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So, my lovely reader, you now know Berlin has a penchant for the Christmas Market… or Weihnachten Markt, as the locals say. Is that all you think I spent my precious time doing? Drinking Glugwein (inc. a Weiss beer version), eating Bratwurst and that lovely smoked salmon?

So, the sound of Berlin has always had that underground bohemian vibe (or perhaps that’s just me). Think the Sally Bowles character in Cabaret (or perhaps that’s just me). The challenge… should I accept it (or perhaps that’s… forget that bit)… is to see if the modern Berlin lives up to its historic reputation.

First stop… A-Trane. Well, I’ve only just arrived a few hours ago. How’s a guy supposed to hit the ‘bohemia’ ground running (or, perhaps that’s just me)?

Perhaps not underground, exactly. But, the overground version provided a great intro to the local jazz scene with Andreas Schmidt and friends doing a regular Monday night slot. Something of the avant garde style to welcome me to the sound of Berlin.

Getting genuinely down underground you need to shift along the alphabet a space. B-Flat, is a club in the Hackescher Markt area. An unassuming entrance and staircase leads you into more traditional jazz territory… subterranean (or perhaps that’s just me).

Nothing traditional about KRiSPER, an electric jazz ensemble. Playing just their own compositions, with superb musicianship. There was a definite wow factor to the atmospheric style of their music (or perhaps that’s just me).

Then, keeping that overground-underground feel… The Hat Club feels like it belongs in that Cabaret-era of 1930’s kind of thing, competing with the sound of trains overhead (or perhaps that’s just me)…

It’s a nightly jam session in one of those rare places that permits smoking throughout 😷 Initially very lounge sounding (or perhaps that’s just me). But as the Vieux Carre cocktails slipped down the sound distinctly blocked out the rumbling of trains overhead (or… well, no not that… it does occupy a railway arch… ah, you didn’t see that one coming).

Until we speak again, falling off the chair, after too many local beers and fab cocktails, is permitted (or perhaps that’s just me!!!!!!).

Frohe Weihnachten

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Berlin in December… I wonder what’s occurring? It seems they take their Christmas Markets very seriously. You can hardly move for stumbling across a Weihnachten Markt!

Staying close to the famous Potsdamer Platz, it’s where the world’s first traffic light confused people… and still does:

Only now it’s surrounded by, you guessed it, a Weihnachten Markt…

So I drifted towards the equally famous Alexanderplatz, to find???

But, before I could even get there I navigate the famous Gendarmenmarkt square with its…

And the potentially famous Humboldt Forum with its…

The grand setting of Schloss Charlottenburg hasn’t been spared…

Neither has the Kaiser Wilhelm Gedachtnis Kirche, it would seem…

Until we speak again, apparently, I’ve only scratched the surface. So, when in Berlin do what the Berliners do (I wonder if they do anything the rest of the year, or just recover until its Weihnachten Markt time all over again?)…

Chez Juno

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Juno might well have been a cool urban cat. Born and raised in London, then transported by her servant to Cardiff. But she knew inner city living was shared with a variety of interesting characters. Borrowing from a Hollies song of the 1960’s… look through any window, and what do you see…

An energetic little thing getting some training in for the pet olympics, maybe…

Then tempting a dangerous eyeball to eyeball vibe…

With a ‘kiss my furry ass‘ touch of insolence…

Then, with topical timing, up steps one of the ‘calling birds’ of Christmas fame…

With a distant relative playing a poor game of hide and seek…

While the inexperienced youngsters are simply peering into dangerous places…

Looking beyond the immediate window, the 2025 brood are snacking outside the local dockside One Stop Shop. Hopefully, they dispose of their plastic rubbish after the hearty meal…

While the local heron just waits… and watches… for the next meal to swim by unexpectedly…

Until we speak again, Chez Juno remains a place of natural wonder deep in the heart of the city. But wait a minute… who’s this imposter?

Turkish delight

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Is it a Byzantium? Is it an Istanbul? No, it’s a Constantinople. For more than two millenia Ancient Greek, Roman and Ottoman rulers have laid claim to a dramatic area of real estate straddling the divide of the great continents of Asia & Europe.

But this post has got nothing to do with that. This Constantinople is an altogether younger affair… a piece of culinary real estate straddling a length of pavement in Brighton.

The spoils of dramatic conquest are however no less celebrated. Here, the slaying of animals, fish and vegetables, are presented in exquisite combinations. With a range of international options for toasting the sacrificial offerings, the Turkish choices of Efes (beer) and Sevelin Kalecik Karasi (wine) are recommended, for the sake of authenticity.

As for dining, tonight I choose to decimate the lamb population. A starter of Arnavut Cigeri presents an Albanian dish of fried lambs liver accompanied by potato, green pepper, and red onions.

As plenty of the aforementioned sacrificial offering remains, I choose a main dish of Buryan Kebap… a bonelees lamb shank with Syriac sauce.

I can only say, Larry, as many a lamb has been known to be named, didn’t die in vain. Such a sacrifice will remain firmly emblazoned on the memory… at least until the next memorable meal.

Until we speak again, Contantinople offers a gracious welcome to all.

A pavement in Brighton will suffice, unless you have a hankering for turf that claims territory in both east & west (continents that is, not Sussex).

The wonders of Tunisia

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For a whistlestop tour Tunis and surrounding area provided a great insight to the history and culture of this fascinating country… the most liberal of Arabic nations. Independent since 1956 and more recently experiencing the Jasmin Revolution of 2011, Tunisia is an open and very welcoming country.

It does plenty of very old. From the Medina…

… to Carthage…

Then there’s the hustle and bustle. From the Tunis souks (but so deserted at night)…

… to the attraction of Sidi Bou Said blue & white village…

Indigenous fresh street food often panders to those with a sweet tooth. From dates or almond Makroud in the Souks…

… to fresh and extremely light Bambalouni donuts in Sidi Bou Said…

And, of course, they do the sea big time: fresh calamari as well as fish and chips (red snapper) with a twist. Not forgetting options for roof terrace fine dining (duck & lamb dishes at Dar El Jeld)…

Until we speak again, a few days sampling the delights of Tunisia might well result in you declaring…

Speak easy, Caerdydd

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With America’s decision to inflict a further four years of the narcissistic pathological liar on the rest of the world, there seems little reason to afford them the previous levels of attention. Even some of their historic cultural characteristics no longer provide a reason to spend a dime in their direction.

About 100 years ago, the speakeasy was America’s quintessential creation for getting around prohibition. For the last 10 years Cardiff has its own version (without the prohibition) with its own discreet method of entry…

Yes, I’m missing my regular visits to New Orleans. But, the first ever cocktail, Sazerac, created in NOLA, is ably recreated here on my own doorstep…

The Dead Canary (What We Do In The Shallows) also has a uniquely Welsh twist, with a creative drinks menu that includes stories of Welsh coastal history attached to each unique cocktail…

And some quite uniquely presented concoctions. Who needs a glass when you can drink your rum-based cocktail out of a skull? This one named Walter and the Wreckers…

Until we speak again, the speakeasy is alive and well, and discreetly open in a quiet back alleyway in Cardiff city centre…

Town Planning wins!?

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Yes, I know, that’s a crazy statement in so many ways. I was a town planner many years ago, so please… hear me out. There are rare moments in life when the planning system fails to completely fuck everything up.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not with the intention of doing something good… that hardly aligns with the built-in values system. No, accidents do happen, and sometimes with wonderful consequences.

Take the Salutation pub in tbe university area of Manchester, for example. I was there when it stood alone in acres of cleared derelict land back in the 1970’s. Now, surrounded by modernism on all sides, it’s survival is all the more heroic. Particularly, as it’s largely a student-run enterprize these days…

Then, there’s the issue of what to do with old underground Victorian public toilets. In most cases, at ground level, they are rusting gates and railings secured by a sturdy lock and chain. Left as eyesores to blight the urban landscape, while desperate passers-by go in search of somewhere for a leak.

But, on Great Bridgewater Street in the centre of Manchester something altogether different is happening. For nearly 30 years, The Temple (of Convenience) has been welcoming thirsty punters… and not just for the relief of a good slash!

Until we speak again, don’t just knock the town planners, raise a glass or two to celebrate their occasional mishaps!

It seems my current focus on liquidity knows no end. For those of you wondering if Manchester has anything non-pub related… well, these are my 50th anniversary recollections, so you’ll just have to go and see for yourself?

Nostalgia for liquidity

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Some assets hold more liquidity than others. It appears memory is one. So, it’s 50 years since I got a train from Cardiff to Manchester to do the student thing. 

A time for nostalgia, I thought. Retrace some of the steps that memory serves me… though it also seems ‘progress’ may have erased a few.

Did I really drink my way through 4 years of studies? Is that what many students really do? Relying on muscle memory alone seems to be pointing that way.

Hydes, Holts, Robinsons, et al, occupy much of my mental bandwidth. They refresh the mind to cope with sad reflections on hostelries since closed down.

Manchester is a wonderful city in so many different ways. But there’s little that’s drawing my attention, on this particular journey into nostalgia, that doesn’t have liquidity at its heart.

Until we speak again, it appears my two favourites back in the day… the Jolly Angler in Ancoats and the White Swan in Fallowfield… both succumbed. I guess liquidity didn’t come to their rescue in the final reckoning.

Worcester (without the sauce)

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Unwittingly, 2025 is turning into the ‘without‘ tour. Previously, on Junos View, Dundee was explored without the famous cake. Now, that unpronounceable place (to foreigners and indigenous idiot’s) – Wuss-ter, has been discovered without any of the Lea & Perrins strange brown thing (sauce).

So, here’s the thing…

Once upon a time, across the border, there’s this old thing… called Ingerlund. And, it’s full of these really old things… called cities, and towns, and things. Some are older than others, but Worcester is definitely an older thing.

If you’re coming here, it’s probably going to be a history thing… particularly if you’re into Tudor things.

Or, maybe, it’s a religious thing… with a particularly impressive one of those cathedral things.

Then again, perhaps it’s an imbibing thing… with a good few of those old pub-like things.

But, it’s definitely an eating thing. Though, in my case, the pie and a pint thing was fully booked up… so it had to be an Anatolian thing…

Then again, for me it’s that strange notion of being the largest place in the UK by population I haven’t visited, thing… until now. After all, that’s what Dundee was prior to Worcester.

Until we speak again, it used to be a thing… now it’s done! As for you, it depends on your thing…

Bravo… Nobel

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Making the right decision shouldn’t always have to be a brave decision. But, when you come under constant pressure from history’s most despicable lying narcissist, a certain amount of bravery is unfortunately required.

Bravo, Nobel Peace Prize panel for recognising the importance of Maria Corina Machado in her continuing fight to uphold the principles of democracy. Even while having to remain in hiding, she provides opposition to the bulldozing of basic humanity by another despicable autocratic… the one in Venezuela.

As a panel, you have shown the world we don’t have to give in to the demands of bullies (former DPP’s excepted).

Until we speak again, you’ve also spared us from what would have followed if the world’s oldest grumpy teenager had been given the reward for a mega sense of entitlement.