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.

Asylum Seeker

Posted on May 3, 2014 by Steve Morgan

And so it came to pass that mathematical uncertainty disappeared down the same pan that had long since been the final port of disposal of any pretensions to artistic flare and dynamic teamwork. In short, the local team fall through the trap door of Premier League relegation, and go back from whence they came a mere twelve months ago. Gloom descends on those who are clearly unaware of the privilege they experience in sharing the Juno household.

So, my thoughts mischievously turn to matters of detention and incarceration for those who have spent a deluded season of misguided hope and expectation. Don’t mistake my fixed stare for anything more than simply a mask of sympathy for those who frequently desert me; underneath I am rolling around the floor in fits of laughter.

I can’t begin to imagine the fear and despair in what passes for the mind of my companion as they are escorted through the foreboding portals of Victorian misery. Surrounded by nothing but haunting desolation suspended beneath threatening slate grey skies where I imagine the colour blue has long since been banished…

Above the stone entrance the last thought for the prospective inmate will be the 1848 etched above the cavernous door. 18.48 was to be about the time that celebrations would be easing having achieved survival on the final day of the season; instead it is merely a portent of when time stopped for the poor lost souls of mental incapacity (aka football supporters).

How challenging it must be to put one foot before the other in a leaden walk into a world devoid of any cheerful welcome, into a place where light has long departed only to be replaced by the grim shadows…

… pierced only by the incoherent screams of those fated to live out a colourless life of inactivity…

What dimly candle-lit expanses of cold dormitory await, where eery spectres lie in wait to disturb any inmate suspected of escaping into the soulful respite of slumber?

Single beds with thin mattresses barely separated by space to move, with every inch of premium real estate taken for wharehousing abject misery.

But surely the undemarcated darkness of night and day is preferable to the grim vitals that constitute the monotonous fare to be served up in the bland surroundings of a grey refectory…

A place where dreams are routinely crushed, and the only source of hope lies in solemn prayers…

Then I hear the key in the door of the Juno household, and in walks a smiling beneficence. For all of my tortured worries and concerns for the welfare of the ‘migrant labourer’, it transpires that they were residing at the Saint Columbas lunatic asylum (circa 1848) in Sligo (Republic of Ireland), but now it is the splendid luxury of the Clarion Hotel… the lucky bastard!!

Until we speak again I am going to be a determinedly demanding Juno, particularly after hearing about the enjoyment of all this hospitality and opulence.

The Strengths Revolution

Posted on April 25, 2014 by Steve Morgan

David Ivor Davies (1893 – 1951) is better known as Ivor Novello, and is one of the famous sons of this once world renowned maritime city of Cardiff, as well as giving his name to some prestigious songwriting awards. Now he sits in quiet contemplation as an important figure in Cardiff Bay. Strolling down his way the other day I happened to notice that our Ivor had become very distracted, so being an inquisitive cat I took it upon myself to check out what it was that so commanded his attention.

To my delight I could see that it was the advancement of a revolution that had occupied his attention… a ‘Strengths Revolution’. Wales having for so long been home to a notoriously dour race of introspective people, pre-occupied by the rise and fall of their industrial heritage… with canals overgrown, docks lying derelict and empty, coalmines closed and winding gear dismantled, and the steel industry owned by foreign investors with little sentiment for the old Welsh workhorse. All of this to be replaced by the inevitable late 20th century and early 21st century drive for a love of bureaucracy and shallow entertainment, monolithic edifices to shopping and service industries, with depths plumbed through the cult of celebrity.

To the untrained eye, my daily slumbers and preoccupation with whatever I can eat looks like the usual and expected life of a simple cat. Meanwhile, all along I have been projecting positive vibes through a talent for x-ray vision into the ‘resident scribbler‘, with the added threat of a fury right hook if they deviate from the task of focusing on what is good in life. Now the fruits of my vision are beginning to emerge in the wider world, as my home becomes the studio for one of the latest additions to the world of the podcast. As of 22nd April 2014 The Strengths Revolution weekly podcast show arrived on your world dominating iTunes Store. So now you to can become the recipient of my pearls of wisdom cunningly dispensed through the ‘vacant organism‘ that shares my home. All you need to do is click on:

https://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/strengths-revolution-steve/id867043694

Of course, it goes without saying you should then subscribe to this wonderous Ivor Novello distraction, and even leave the occasional review of episodes that blew you away with their subtle wit and wisdom. All of this will be like the NHS, free at the point of need! But, for those of you who like to read

Microphone and cans what you have been listening to, the book will be out on 12th May (‘Working with Strengths’ published by Pavilion Publishing & Media in Brighton)… but there are no current plans for the film just yet.

Until we speak again I am going to purr into my Blue Yeti microphone and don strange cans for the future benefit of you all.

Spin the wheel

Posted on April 19, 2014 by Steve Morgan

Despite my vehement remonstrations my human ‘emotional roller-coaster‘ insists in hanging on to the hopey-changey thing. Just because their team managed to fluke a win away to Southampton last week doesn’t bear any relation to a swallows and summer vibe… I quietly suggest. As a less cool cat than me once said: “It’s the hope that will kill you… in the end.” So it’s the ‘turn’ of The Potters from Stoke City FC to roll into town to torment the local faithfuls at the Cardiff City Stadium. ‘Turn’… potters… get it!? I guess I just can’t suppress that cool creative streak on these auspicious occasions.

I am guessing that the visiting artisans will be arriving with kilns all fired up, ready to apply the heat to any unsuspecting Purple Dragonbirds. And with recent appallingly bad home form, and a season drawing rapidly to a close, it is time the locals took some advice from George Michael… get spinning the wheel. This is shaping up to be a bull in a china shop affair, with plenty of crockery throwing between less than friendly rivals. Stoke City bring a quick return to the Cardiff City Stadium for Peter Odemwingie, who managed a less than auspicious few months in a Cardiff shirt, but seems to be a reborn goalscorer and provider since arriving in the potteries. We also have yet another Welshman managing a Premier League team with aspirations to put a further wobble in the Cardiff City FC pot spinning abilities… but what better incentive for the local deluded dreamers than a good motto:

It is 3.00pm on a Saturday afternoon, and the teams line up…

… but the question in the minds of all cultured fans is whether they will be witnessing an array of Wedgwoods and Royal Doultons, with a holding midfield of Burgess & Leigh and William Brownfield, Spode & Copeland out wide, with a front three of Toft, Minton and Moorcraft [they all happen to be makers of pottery by the way… nothing gets past this cat]. Alternatively, are the home team still staring down the pan of an Armitage Shanks or Twyfords? There will be no time for a return of the Porcelain Ponies that pitched up against the Palace on the last home outing… note: the word ‘played’ does not apply to that previous performance!

The home crowd need not worry, as the 5 changes to the last team witnessed in this hothouse don’t seem to possess the same feet of clay that their demoted team-mates offered. But for all the careful kneading of their trade they seem to be offering the same final product… a lack of stoneware in the form of goals. Then wouldn’t you know it; not a penalty seen in these parts all season, but suddenly deep into added on time at the end of the first half the referee (aka everyone’s favourite guy… not!) sees things that nobody else seems to see. One converted penalty later and half-time arrives: Cardiff City 0 Stoke City 1, and suddenly the home fans are desperately searching for the inspiration to fix their shattered pot.

As the second half begins the sunshine of 3.00pm has dissipated as the home team face the need to fire up their season or find they get rapidly fired out of the league.

Within minutes of the restart an unexpected truth emerges as the ceramic arts serve up a new twist in a season that sends most heads spinning. You don’t see a Ming vase for ages and suddenly two arrive within minutes of each other…

a Stoke penalty on 46 minutes, then…

… a Cardiff penalty on 49 minutes and Peter Whittingham doesn’t give up rare chances like these:

Suddenly the home team are all fired up, and even manage to score a disallowed goal shortly after. But as both teams labour away at their craft the minutes ebb away towards the draw that does little to disturb Stoke City’s middle table safe season, but does very little for the home fans still languishing in the basement showroom. Passionate Bluebirds are left broken and dispirited by a score that reads:

1 – 1

As the season draws towards its inevitable close the spinning of each wheel becomes more anxiously watched… it is a time of the year when art slides away as mathematics takes over. Three points from safety with three more games left to play, and the only remaining home game is against one of the contenders for the title. So until we speak again I am a Juno talking in foreign tongues at home not to let the hyper-one get the drift of my prophecies… as they say in France: je ne pas une pot chambre pissoire… or words to that effect! Sting puts it succinctly on his The Last Ship album: “When he’d hardly got two halfpennies left, or a broken pot to piss in?”

[This post includes a few Google images to illustrate points made, used with thanks to the original providers]

Dreaming of The Hamptons

Posted on April 12, 2014 by Steve Morgan

My ‘surrogate nomad‘ tends to go off on rather strange trips, and thinks it is funny to ask me where I have been immediately when they return home. Even the menacing laser look doesn’t seem to stem the flow of nonsense from the failed comedian…

So, the best I can do is curl up and dream of exotic places based on the incoherent mutterings of the ‘resident worker bee‘ with these destinations attributed to me despite the fact I haven’t left home. Forgive me on this occasion for dreaming of life in The Hamptons… the exclusive summer home of wealthy Manhattan cats amongst others. Exotic food immediately comes to mind, after all what am I supposed to do with this nouveau plastic cuisine?

Meanwhile, my ‘culinary torturer‘ is happily socialising with fabulous company in somewhere called Dangs Vietnamese Restaurant

eating sumptuous salmon complete with green stuff and a side dish of white stuff, and a decorative pineapple (which should be a feast for a more deserving cat stuck here in Guantanamo/Cardiff Bay).

I am dreaming of a dramatic and welcoming skyline…

… but then find I am engaged in a bit of the cognitive dissonance thing, as the best Cardiff can offer is the dreaming spires of the Millenium Stadium:

But this is nothing compared with the reports from the ‘lost wanderer‘ who speaks of such a warm welcome in The Hamptons, only for the dominant vision to be one of a prominent middle finger to the world!

My dream comes to an unexpected close with the realisation that the middle finger is the iconic message from middle England… I had been vaguely remembering that my primary ‘comfort provider‘ had droned on about visits to Southampton in recent months, and was now returning from Northampton… it was all a bit Hamptons-lite in the end!

Until we speak again I intend being an inquisitive Juno, wondering what Northampton has that keeps my so-called ‘intelligent one‘ returning for the last 17 years.

Shootout at the KO Corral

Posted on April 5, 2014 by Steve Morgan

Tombstone, Arizona relocates to Cardiff, South Wales for 90 minutes as the infamous 3.00pm shootout is reprised by a bunch of misfiring Premier League gunslingers at the Cardiff City Stadium. With a Marshall as the last line of defence Cardiff City FC are looking to put the visiting Eagles on the road to Boot Hill. Scoring three goals in each of their last two games the home team are shaping up more as Earps rather than the mis-firing twerps of the previous few months. Crystal Palace FC travel to the wild west, but who is going to need a Doc, and who will be looking to a Premier League survival Holliday?

This is a shootout between two of the teams who drifted into Premier League town this season, and both have been eyed up and carefully measured by the local undertaker as favourites to be driven back out of town, one way or another. My ‘resident outlaw‘ despairs at a situation where the Eagles are five points ahead of the Bluebirds as they shape up to face each other at either end of the corral.

“It’s a crime that a team so far behind us at the end of last season, and so far behind us earlier in this season, are now ahead of us entering this gunfight” says the disgruntled one. But the previously floundering Eagles arrive with a new backbone of former Cardiff cowboys, and a former supporter in Tony Pulis as head outlaw.

For 30 minutes there is a distinct impression around the onlookers that they are witnessing a contest of firing blanks, then a poor spectacle is briefly illuminated by an unexpected Crystal Palace goal.

Half-time arrives with Eagles soaring…

Cardiff City 0 Crystal Palace 1.

With the second half about to start, the questions are largely about the tactics of the home team, can they make home advantage work and get their supporters to raise the roof? They seem to be getting some help from other sources…

The home team hardly seem to have had any injection of urgency, with their Colt 45’s functioning more as water pistols. Without any great exertions the away team score a second goal inevitably by one of their old boys, so celebrations on the pitch take the now ridiculous customary mute tone as some fake demonstration of respect for scoring against a team they used to score for.

The Cardiff sheriff makes some changes to personnel, but onlookers are muttering something about too little too late. Then the killer blow as Crystal Palace score a wonder goal out of nothing. Cue a mass exodus by home fans, and the now customary chant from away fans that are in a clear winning advantage… “Is there a fire drill?” The final score is wildly celebrated by the away fans, as the home fans make their funereal march home…

0 v 3

There is no doubt that if the Earps and Holliday combo of 1881 had performed anything like the home team today that Boot Hill cemetery in Tombstone would be welcoming different corpses. In the meantime, my ‘deadbeat supporter‘ accepts that suicide would be getting off lightly, and the only sentence for a current supporter of Cardiff City is to keep watching them! Until we speak again I will be Juno trying not to taunt Wyatt Twerp with a slow goodbye to Premier League football in this household.

[Some of the images have been downloaded from google images, with thanks to the suppliers for their contribution to the making of this story].

Was it all just a dream?

Posted on March 30, 2014 by Steve Morgan

This ‘Cat Mate‘ thing is hardly a mate of mine, as it usually signifies my turn to look after the flat while the ‘resident dreamer‘ goes off on some travelling escapade involving some culinary adventure.

This time I decide to curl up and go off on a dream of my own…

I experience a scary start as I dream of my feral compatriots roaming a busy square in search of boiled sheep heads; brains, tongue, cheek and eyeballs are hardly the kind of adventure that this dreamer ascribes to…

A cat of my stature has standards, so in my slumbers I slink through the mad traffic and madder pedestrians in search of something less challenging and more salubrious. Local cuisine has to be the source of great food.

Then in a quiet corner of my imagination I spy potential…

… Le Tanjia, home of finest Moroccan Cuisine draws me in for further investigation. The cats around this area seem to meander more slowly and present themselves with a more satisfied look. But nothing in my dreams prepared me for the welcome:

The decor is dimly lit, in a delightfully historic setting, so the scene is set up for a true feast to match. ‘Lamb Couscous with Seven Vegetables‘ and ‘Lamb with Prunes and Pine Nuts Tagine‘ sets the taste buds racing; but then the lamb simply melts in the mouth and brings involuntary ‘mmhs’ from everyone who tastes it…

How do you top off a meal like that… a stylish Mojito seemed to be the solution to my dreams… then it is time for a deeper slumber.

Unfortunately, at this point I hear the key in the door, and it seems that ‘resident dreamer‘ is returning to disturb my routine. Oh well, until we speak again I will be a Juno continuing to dream of the delights of Marrakech… a long distance away from the ‘Cat Mate’ contraption.

Bleak House

Posted on March 22, 2014 by Steve Morgan

The ‘Beautiful Game Tour‘ (aka Liverpool FC) rolls into Cardiff today for a game at the Cardiff City Stadium, or Bleak House as I am now prone to calling it, as a tease to my long-suffering resident season ticket holder. “What the dickens is going on?” I ask, when the ‘delusional one‘ begins to extol something approaching ‘Great Expectations‘ regarding the fortunes of the home team. “This may well be A Tale of Two Cities“ I reply, but “if you believe in hope for your team today you must have lost yourself in The Old Curiosity Shop of dreams”. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, particularly for those who ultimately provide the basis of my laid back lifestyle, but… “your lot are falling on Hard Times“ I mutter under my breath. Local fans should take a lead from Oliver Twist, as the outcome from today is likely to be no more than a bowl of gruel.

In the tale of two cities theme, it is the challenge of the former docklands as the Pierhead Building takes on the Liver Building:

But for me, it is yet another lunch teaser… what is it with these football teams and bird mascots? You watch your match, I’m going to dream about a Bluebird starter followed by a roast Liver Bird.

It’s 3.00p.m. on a trepidatious Saturday afternoon for the local desperados…

… but wait, some people have clearly not read the script. Rumour has it these days that Liverpool FC use their pace to overwhelm the opposition from the kick-off, then ease back as the match goes on. Eight minutes on the clock and up steps the aptly Dickensian named Jordan Mutch to put Cardiff City into a surprising but deserved 1-0 lead. Only a few pages into the book and the home fans are already sensing a happy ending. However, The Artful Dodger, (Louis Suarez), hits back with an equalising goal on 16 minutes. The home fans remain upbeat, and on 24 minutes are again aptly rewarded by a Dickensian double of Jordan Mutch passing to Frazier Campbell for the second goal.

Scrooge has clearly had no hand in the influencing of either teams defence, as later in the half Martin Skrtel equalises for Liverpool. The home fans turn their joy into a less than warm reception for their hated owner, the Uriah Heep type villain who makes Miss Havisham’s neglect and final destruction of her own home look like a blueprint for his ultimate intentions in CF11. “We’ll always be blue” is repeatedly chanted by the home fans, waving a mass of blue scarves in support of their team playing in red! It could easily have been a song that a young Charles Dickens sang while his father and other family members were incarcerated in Marshalsea Debtors Prison back in the early 19th century.

Half-time brings rapturous applause from all parts of the stadium… 2-2. It is looking like the Bob Cratchett’s and Joe Gargery’s of the world might just be getting some reward for their honest toil. As the second half begins someone in the crowd is making their views known across the pitch to the empty seat where the owner should have been sitting…

Rumour has it that Bill Sikes is trying out new disguises in order to camouflage his misdemeanours in the locality…

The Great Expectations of the first half soon begin to descend into a Bleak House of a second half, as The Artful Dodger (Louis Suarez) and his accomplice Fagin (Daniel Sturridge) pick the pockets of their hosts relentlessly. 2-3 quickly becomes 2-4. At 2-5 it is very clear that Pip, the fresh-faced young Cardiff manager is out of his depth, and his team have found themselves deep in a truly Dickensian workhouse scenario, finding it increasingly difficult to extricate themselves from a perilous position in the relegation places in the Premier League. Jordan Mutch gets an unlikely third goal to give the largely silent home fans something to get passionate about. But, as the minutes of added on injury time ebb away another pocket is picked by The Artful Dodger. And the final score at ‘the beautiful game’…

3 v 6

My ‘perplexed companion‘ is left bewildered, as the home team rarely score 3 goals at home this season… now that they have achieved the feat it comes at the cost of double the number of goals conceded. Life can be strange, but for those that support Cardiff City FC football can be a kick in the teeth (frequently, it would seem). Until we speak again I am going to be Edwin Drood Juno, walking the streets of Cardiff in search of material for the unfinished story that is this blog.

[With thanks to those who provided google images that helped to illustrate this story].

Disaster porn

Posted on March 17, 2014 by Steve Morgan

My slumbers are being disturbed daily by the incredible on-going story of the missing Malaysian Airlines plane MH370. Not least by the ability of so many people to create so many stories out of so little information. As the scale of the search grows ever wider I decided I should add my own surveillance skills to the effort…

I was particularly distressed by the idea of suicide by pilot, with widespread reporting of two previous cases back in the late 1990’s. So much so, that I thought I would submit my own script of events before Hollywood churned out their inevitable take on the story. So, put aside all of your conspiracy theories, because this is how I think things have played out.

As a plot developer I am going with the idea that the pilot or co-pilot had decided on suicide by crashing the plane, and had over-powered their colleague in the cockpit shortly into the routine flight. It is widely reported that a ‘ping’ was being transmitted for about 6 hours after the communications systems had been disabled; and the plane is thought to have changed course to a northern or southern corridor taking it either towards India or into the Indian Ocean. My preferred theory is the southern route out over the ocean, until the plane runs out of fuel and plunges into the water.

However, there is a stranger twist to this altogether strange affair. How could the perpetrator have guessed that they would be plunging into a massive ocean at the exact position that Bruce Willis had rowed his fishing boat out to? What are the chances that the only man in the world who could single-handedly catch a jet plane and hold it completely intact as it entered the water and continued down into the murky depths would be in that exact same place?

But at this point in the story things start to get a little odd… as Bruce and the plane plumb knew depths (go on, you never thought he could did you?) a pinpoint of light appears on the distant ocean floor. Could it be the coin Bruce had recently flipped to see if he was going to have a successful day fishing? Probably not. There again, it could be a wedding ring tossed overboard from a passing cruise liner as the result of a domestic tiff. Probably not.

No, as it turns out there was a simpler explanation… much to Bruce’s amazement (go on, you never thought he could be amazed did you?) it was the glint in George Clooney‘s eye, as he stood on the threshold of the lost city of Atlantis.

In his own special way George extended a warm welcome and a cup of coffee to the bemused but somewhat relieved passengers. Bruce declined, as he preferred tea. George had personally discovered, at no cost to his reputation, an ethically sound and sustainably resourced new world… and as there was no wi fi, internet access or mobile phone signals everyone lived happily ever after. Well, that’s Hollywood for you.

I intend to donate all the proceeds from the film to the families of those who were on MH370. In the unlikely event that my vision of what happened doesn’t turn out to be completely accurate I advise you all to revisit your conspiracy theories. But don’t let your Bruce-induced nightmares keep you awake.

Until I discover a cure for dementia, and we speak again, I am going to be an extra vigilant Juno.

[With special thanks to those who placed Bruce & George pics on Google images that helped illustrate this tale (or should that be tail?)].

Older and bolder

Posted on March 15, 2014 by Steve Morgan

For any cats around the world stowing away on boats, determined that Cardiff is their desired destination (and why not I say!), you will know when you have arrived. The magnificent Pierhead Building will be there to greet you. For all of the modern development of the former world famous docks into the Cardiff Bay ‘leisure and government administration zone’, the eye can’t help but be drawn in by the older building.

It was designed by a Welsh Englishman named William Frame (1848-1906), because nothing in Wales is that straightforward. But there is no doubt about the 100% Welsh materials making up the French-originated design… Ruabon in North Wales was apparently known as ‘Terracottapolis‘ for the Etruria marl clay that forms the base of the distinctive terra cotta materials. It was paid for by a Scotsman, John Crichton-Stuart (3rd Marquess of Bute); so all that were needed were Irish and Italian builders or visitors for the locally revered ‘Six-Nations Rugby’ to be represented in the one building! It took 3 years in construction, opened in 1897, and cost a mere £30,000… which would realistically only pay for the furniture for us cats to sharpen our claws on in today’s prices.

As I stroll around the Bay area I can do nothing but purr contentedly at the framing of this building from different angles. The Gothic revivalist architecture contrasts with the modern buildings surrounding it, with its strong lines and attention to detail marking it out against the sweeping and blander images of some of its modern neighbours.

Close inspection lets you know the original purpose of this Grade 1 listed Victorian gem, established as the home of the Bute Docks Company. It also sat at the gateway for seamen from the world over who settled in Tiger Bay to make it the first multicultural community in the UK. Early in the 20th century it transferred to accommodate the Cardiff Railway Company, and later on to offices of the Great Western Railway.

As the docks declined and closed, this proud building that had in its days administered the Port of Cardiff and the railways necessary for transporting much of the freight, lost its way, a bit like a stray cat, and fell into the same disuse as most of the surrounding industrial waste land. As the 20th century entered its final couple of decades it recaptured its original splendour within the new commercial vision for the docklands redevelopment.

It is now a part of the neighbouring Welsh Assembly buildings, complete with its own smaller version of ‘Big Ben’, but too small to provide the Assembly with its debating chamber… now accommodated in the wooden stingray beached next door. At least this architectural treasure is spared the need to accommodate political hot air, unlike the original ‘Big Ben’ of London framing the Palace of Westminster.

The detail on all parts of the building is exquisite, and just like many iconic buildings you can spend a great deal of time actually reading the building itself, as a bold statement of its designers and its place in time. Even the well preserved gargoyles are enough to remind any self-respecting cat of the dangers posed by a pack of ugly dogs! Now the building houses a visitor attraction with a 5-minute visual montage of the history of the surrounding area every 20 minutes in the Main Hall, as well as space for other Welsh history exhibitions, events and conferences.

For this cat it is very reassuring that at least some remnants of the once great industrial heritage of this area are preserved, even if it also manages to show up the relatively poor standard of architectural fare that passes as modern progress and development. The Victorian age may now form a diminishing legacy of the older stock in our built environment, but it still shows how bold they were in some of their grand statements.

Who says an ordinary cat can’t have interests beyond sleeping and eating? Cardiff may not be overly blessed with world class examples of architecture, but it has a number of gems of all ages. Until we speak again I will continue to promote the Juno Architectural Appreciation Society of Cardiff.

Battle of the basement

Posted on March 8, 2014 by Steve Morgan

My resident ‘exaggerator general‘ is talking up the enormity of today’s encounter at the Cardiff City Stadium, but I can barely raise a paw from my eyes at the prospect of the Battle of the Basement, as the Premier League’s two worst teams go head-to-head in the rush to relegation. With the two worst defensive records, and two of the worst scoring records I await nothing short of a comedy of errors to be reported back to me after the match from the ‘gullible one‘, who has even gone as far as to renew a season ticket. I am secretly trying not to offer congratulations for grabbing a bargain, as relegation means 4 extra games for the same price… I must keep remembering it is so easy to mock the afflicted!

I hear they are extending the capacity of the stadium, yet one glimpse into my food bowl of fortune tells me that the crowds will be hard to come by…

If you are into gambling I suggest you should have more confidence in a four-month long Welsh heatwave starting today, with record temperatures in the upper 30 degrees, than the arrival of Fulham FC sparking any heat into this encounter. Even with their tradition of the comedian Tommy Trinder being a life long fan (and former club Chairman) there is nothing in their recent history to suggest Fulham are going to raise the spirits…

One look at their line-up of managers so far this season does little to tempt me to roll over for a tummy tickle! I thought I heared something on the radio about ‘Felix the Cat’ being this week’s manager at Fulham Football Club, but my ‘fount of all things unnecessary‘ tells me it is a German guy called Felix Magath. Oh well, football is a strange game, so I am told. But, whoever came up with that one hasn’t watched cricket, I say!

It’s 3.00p.m. on a sunny Saturday at the Cardiff City Stadium, with all the home fans desperately hoping some of those rays inspire a long lost performance out of their team. Get strapped in, this could be a roller-coaster of a yawn; 90 minutes can be a long time when you are stuck in a seat watching loads of blades of grass grow.

Much running and sliding, and general kicking about goes on for 45 minutes. As expected of the two teams propping up all of the others, little resembling a chance of goal scoring is happening. 0-0 as the half-time whistle approaches, but one further minute of added time comes up on the stadium big screens. Many of the home fans are wondering what a goal is… it is reaching a point where they begin to claim to have heard about them but not seen their team score one for so long… “days of the dinosaurs” may even get muttered in the same sentance as the last Cardiff City goal. But then, with the last kick of the half (and many fans already queueing for their exorbitantly priced tat passing as refreshment beneath the stands) up steps Captain Caulker to slot home from a few yards out. The mystery of the Cardiff City Stadium goal is banished as the home team go off the pitch to the applause of their fans… Cardiff City 1 Fulham 0. A cat’s eye view of the goal (with thanks to Mail Online):

Dare the locals dream… the second half is about to kick-off in this game where it is widely acknowledged that the loser is likely to be doomed to relegation.

The half begins with more of the same fare experienced for most of the earlier 45 minutes. Not exactly igniting the passions, and then the inevitable happens as the home team go on the retreat, against the demands of some of their baying fans, and Fulham score to level the match at 1-1. Deep from the inevitable footballing cliche machine comes the murmuring of the stadium sages… “a draw helps neither team”. But, uncharacteristically for this field of dreams, a 12 minute spell of productive activity ensues, and with the help of Captain Caulker again, and a comedy of errors in the Fulham defence, Cardiff City find themselves in uncharted Premier League waters at 3-1 to the good.

Anything could now be possible in the weirdly distorted mind of my ‘biased reporter‘; “don’t be so stupid, this is Cardiff City, not Barcelona” I suggest. And, with a cat’s level of footballing knowledge, I take a bow for my superiority in all matters. Whatever the fans shout, this is Cardiff in the Premier League, and they just can’t help themselves… they have this strange habit of running backwards, making even poor or mediocre teams like Fulham (or Sunderland, Norwich, and West Bromwich Albion) to temporarily look good! This is clearly a team that defy all logic. If playing an attacking style pressing forward puts you into a 3-1 lead, what genius has told them that they should now all run backwards and play just back in their own half? You don’t need a degree in mathematics or statistics to read the league table and see this is a team who manifestly fail at trying to defend a lead.

Mesmerising, majestic, out-of-this-world, scintillating… these are all words overly used in football descriptions, but today you will have to be somewhere else to find them. However short on superlatives, those rays of sunshine do manage to bathe the home crowd with something more than just luck… for today they are playing Fulham, a team even more inept at putting the ball in the back of the net than the home team. The final whistle arrives to bring the curtain down on a score to lift Welsh hearts… Cardiff City Bluebirds 3 Fulham Lame Ducks 1.

I guess I will have to listen to ‘exaggerator general‘ pontificating about hope, and a bright new horizon, while I resist the temptation to spike the balloon with a reality check. If Felix the Cat is still in a job next season, in a club that have taken the term ‘Manager of the Month‘ to a newly ridiculous level, will he be seen in these parts again? Until we speak again I am going to be a sun-seeking Juno, trying to avoid casting around the dark clouds that still engulf a team saddled with a clueless owner…

… with an over developed sense of self-importance.

[Most of the images are borrowed from Google images to illustrate the story, with thanks to those who posted them originally].

	David on Searching for Lebanon
	Kirt on NOLA: UK-style
	Wanda Rusiecki on Frohe Weihnachten
	Steve Morgan on Turkish delight
	Wanda Rusiecki on Turkish delight

JUNO's VIEW

Seeing Cardiff and the world through the eyes of one cool cat

Author Archives: Steve Morgan