Where did the sunshine go?

Posted on February 12, 2014 by Steve Morgan

My ‘irrational optimist‘ is expressing a load of expletives, something to do with a ‘villa’. It has me very confused, because when I think of a villa I get the following images:

… sharply contrasting blue sky and white buildings.

Yachts slowly drifting into port…

… a meal overlooking the sea.

Boats disappearing into the sunset…

But it seems that the ‘Villa‘ in question today is something to do with the less salubrious Aston area of the city of Birmingham! Not even a reference to Alabama… it’s got more to do with Brummies arriving in town! Though how they will be getting here is anyone’s guess… it’s February, so they should be battling the snow. Instead, half the country is under water; so to get from England’s second city (as far away from the sea as you can get) to Wales first city (right by the sea) is going to require a boat!

Stormy weather and the prospects of a stormy match; as the locals are quietly panicking about their ability to ride the crest of the Premier League wave beyond this first season. As for Aston Villa, they may be viewing mid-table safety as being within their grasp, but defeat today and it could be deja vu as laughing boy doesn’t spend much time out of the managerial sack-race spotlight.

It’s 7.45pm on a cold and wet Tuesday night in February… so welcome to the grim, the battered and the ugly! The first half sees the home team viewing this villa as something they could occupy and take control of, but not quite doing enough to make a clear purchase. Little signs emerge of the background storms invading this particular patch of real estate. Half-time dawns and it remains a becalmed 0-0.

As the second half begins many of the home fans are slow to get back to their seats, possibly not entirely convinced that the necessary storm surge is going to engulf their opponents. Fears turn to reality as the half progresses, and it is the turn of Villa-folk to eye up an opportunity to gazump any home team offer to take the match. Finally, and not for the first time this season, it is up to Cardiff’s main line of flood defence, their goal keeper David Marshall, to pull out one of the saves of the season to preserve one point for his team.

So, with prior expectations of both teams desperately needing three points for the win, a stormy battle was on the cards… but in football, Estate Agent type levels of exaggeration are made but rarely reflected in the bleak reality. As for the final score, it ends up as a becalming Basement Flat 0 Under-whelming Villa 0.

Until we speak again the forecast suggests I am going to be batten-down-the-hatches Juno!

[A few pictures in this post were gratefully borrowed from sources on google images to illustrate points being made].

In a parallel universe

Posted on February 8, 2014 by Steve Morgan

I was just contemplating the peace and tranquility of my local area when it was rudely interrupted by one of those rival birds. Those at home around me who would benefit by ‘getting a life’ tell me that the Bluebirds are away to their local rivals, Swansea, today.

So, why are they in my backyard, and trying to recreate the ‘Black Knight’ sketch from Monty Python and the Holy Grail? “Nobody passes by here” was the implication of this creature’s demeanour; and a pretty mean demeanour it struck too.

Being a pacifist cat, I retreated from what would only result in the usual nasty Cardiff – Swansea affair. Personal dignity was my primary concern.

But these swans do not seem to share my more delicate contemplations and meditations on peace and quiet.

“Where are you, I know where you live” were the threat-like remonstrations from my long-necked tormenter.

I reluctantly became drawn into my inquisitor’s more base conduct… “You and who’s army” I enquired, in my politest of tones. But little did I expect the beaky one to bring the whole family in on the altercation…

I was beginning to get the hang of this Mexican standoff routine… “Bring your family, all the more meals for me next week” I retorted. But, in true poker playing style the feathered-one upped the ante with a call to more troops that would have been better deployed at Swansea’s ‘Liberty Stadium’ for the Premier League grudge match:

You can use threats and intimidation as much as you like, but ultimately for us stylish cats it is the elegance of our demeanour that will always triumph… but just occasionally a flash of the gnashers is regrettably required…

… and the swans go diving for cover. Synchronised swans arses can mean only one thing… peace is once again restored in the Juno universe.

As for the match taking place in a parallel universe somewhere out west, serenity has clearly been denied, as my domestic ‘religious correspondent‘ is busy praying, begging, searching for any spare miracles that might have been mislaid in my personal conquest of the white renegade hoards. It is so undignified, but what else can you expect from football fans, particularly those on the end of a 3-0 defeat to their bitterest rivals?

Until we speak again I intend to be imperious Juno, and my household will be a place of merciless mirth-taking with regards to all losers!

[The cat pictures have been borrowed from google images, with special thanks to their originators for providing additional material to illustrate this tale].

The Tourist ‘Bored’

Posted on February 5, 2014 by Steve Morgan

It’s the time of year when we are all bombarded by ads for destinations to visit during the forthcoming months, as well as the wider economic attractions of just about everywhere. I am sure from the wording that some of these things are put together by Estate Agents, so it got me thinking about ways to promote my new found home, and what it truly has to offer, particularly for cats with open minds and a taste for the different.

1. For the intrepid traveller there are excellent rail links, with a welcoming environment to arrive in:

2. For the local traveller we have designed some of our bus stops on a more traditional welcoming Irish theme (you don’t have to wait for 17th March):

3. If it’s buildings that you are into there are some architectural wonders, accommodating the old and the new, or simply something to leave the connoisseur, well, just wondering:

4. We are not short on the cultural venues for staging, well, I’m not sure what they stage exactly, but they’ve been around for a good while:

5. But if your idea of culture is more about films, there are a variety of cinemas in which to see what the gritty British Film Industry is all about (even if you can’t get in any more):

6. We have water-based theme parks, with rides that will baffle old and young alike:

7. And staying with the water theme, there is always an opportunity for the adventurous among you, such as those who like snorkeling for instance:

8. For the fashion conscious, make sure you get the right week… there is nothing in London, Milan, New York or Paris to match the local models demonstrating the latest in rainy-day chic:

9. This is a city that thinks highly of it’s lost sons and daughters, so do pay your respects to those who sacrificed all to save the planet:

10. And for those of you scouting to re-locate your business there is state-of-the-art open plan offices just waiting to accommodate you, with built-in air conditioning at no extra cost:

But, with all of the above on offer, the true attraction of Cardiff is the permanent blue skies framing iconic architecture (old and new), with a welcoming and relaxing atmosphere in which to just eat, drink and be merry.

Until we speak again I have been Juno, living in Cardiff so I can bring you nothing but joy and tranquility.

Canaries in a Coalmine

Posted on February 1, 2014 by Steve Morgan

I have been so obsessed with food of late that I have forgotten my responsibility to mock my resident ‘grieving fan‘ on their local team hitting rock bottom in the Premier League. What makes matters worse for the poor soul is the clash of sports, with Cardiff City at home to Norwich City at the same time as the rugby international at the Millenium Stadium with Wales hosting Italy. From what I can see the wallet has triumphed over the heart, as the use of a pre-paid season ticket to watch the tedium of two teams who can hardly score a goal, yet both seem happy to let them in (surely a nailed-on 0-0) triumphs over the possibility of watching pure passion for free on the TV.

The Cardiff City Stadium prepares to ramp up the levels of boredom to new heights, with Norwich taking about 30 attempts on goal without scoring, in the corresponding match at their ground earlier in the season. Though they did get the ball in the net by cheating, which was fortunately disallowed. The match promises as much excitement as watching a canary slowly choking to death in a coalmine… a fitting analogy, as Norwich City are known as the Canaries, though God only knows why (actually it is after 16th century European refugees); and South Wales is known for its coalmines, though finding one these days is a bit like witnessing goalscoring chances for the Bluebirds.

Tantalisingly for me, it’s yet another footballing ‘battle of the birds’, and all I get is to comment from afar. Let me at them and there just might be some excitement at the match today. But for now it is 3.00pm on a damp February Saturday afternoon, and the Bluebirds are wondering where to find any Canaries, whilst the disguised canaries stare perilously into the coalmine:

The Bluebirds have new faces from the January transfer window are flocking all over the place without seemingly working as a team.

The Canaries celebrate with a simple goal against a ragged Bluebirds defence. An inconsequential first half ends CARDIFF CITY 0 NORWICH CITY 1.

The home birds start the second half with a Norwegian flea in the ear (Ole Gunnar Solskjaer the new manager), and the proverbial ‘game of two halves’ is about to unfold.

You can’t miss from there, and on 49 minutes local boy Craig Bellamy obliges with an equalising goal.

Nice goal celebration Craig. Yet a mere minute later and it’s new boy Kenwyne Jones showing the fans a different perspective on the Cardiff City Stadium:

As the match enters the final 20 minutes an all-too-familiar pattern emerges for the home fans as their team sits back and invites the opposition to launch wave after wave of attacks.

With the help of a tiring home team, the Canaries seem to have found renewed energy from somewhere.

My resident ‘panic merchant‘ tells me it only takes a short memory in these parts to remember Bluebirds on course for a nasty collision if they don’t sustain their need to attack. But on this occasion they desperately hold out, and with great home sighs of relief…

… it is the away team that has to look at its frequent inability to take their chances. As the final whistle blows, it is a time for Bluebird celebrations, and for Canaries to hang their heads in defeat.

2 v. 1

So much for my prediction of 0-0. Until we speak again my ‘desperate optimist‘ will hang on to any morsels of success, but I have been a frustrated Juno… so many birds on display and all I can do is observe from a distance. In the meantime, my ‘anti-stereotyping consultant‘ just congratulated me on a post about Norwich City with not a single mention of Delia Smith, Colman’s Mustard or that everyone looked the same… oops!

[Some of the images in this post just might have been copied from google images (and BBC Sport)… many thanks to those of you posting images that support my stories].

Hooves and Trotters

Posted on January 28, 2014 by Steve Morgan

[Some of the following images have been copied from ‘images of…’ on the internet, and are included with thanks to those who originally placed them].

To all my vegetarian eaters I say “get a proper diet, leave the poor weak vegetarians alone, other than giving others a fright with their pale and drawn complexions they didn’t do anything to you.” Personally, I and my species just don’t get it; I wasn’t born with these teeth just to go bringing down broccoli or cornering cabbages for the kill.

When I am contemplating what I fancy eating there is nothing I like more than to see the menu written all over my prey. What better way is there of supporting the great 21st century ethos of consumer choice and providing information through clear product labelling!

But I was even more delighted to see that my culinary psychopathic teachings were put into action just the other day, when my resident ‘flesh chomper‘ was joined by an ‘ex-pat carnivore‘ from the Philippines, as they scoured the local prairies for something to fill the time and space between beers. I strongly advised them to only eat things that recently carried a name… like Gertrude and Daisy, or Pinky and Perky. After all, you don’t know what kind of situation you’ve landed yourself in if the host is talking about ‘Florence the fennel’ or ‘Angelica the artichoke’.

First stop was The Wharf, where Cardiff’s version of Little Venice meets the toxic algae of the Bute East Dock:

A fine pint of the Brains SA was accompanied by freshly served portions of pig… succulent pork chops or the delicate arrangement of bangers and mash with onion gravy.

Further pints of Brains SA and Oakham Citra in the City Arms made for a pleasurable interruption to the eating:

It seems that whenever these characters get together the film Groundhog Day gets a re-enactment… just as day follows night, so beer and eating follow, well, beer and eating! It’s another day, but enough of the samples from the sty, it was time for a few hooves to make the ultimate sacrifice; and where better for a beer interruption than a place called The Grazing Shed, where a multi-storey car park meets a multi-storey building site:

Cardiff’s tribute to a US classic meets locally sourced ingredients to produce Super Tidy Burgers. This is the part of Cardiff where John Wayne meets Spicy Pedro…

A great new idea in fast food arrives in Cardiff. This is no ordinary run-of-the-mill burger, these are the Ronseal of the burger world… ‘super tidy burgers‘ that do what they say on the cows backside. Even veggie varieties are available for those with enough energy to walk from the car (though you might want to ask the nice staff if they do a roadside delivery to conserve the stress on vital organs).

This place is building its reputation on an all ingredients are locally sourced theme. One claim is that butchers supply their meat from Carmarthen… it certainly tasted fresh, and though we weren’t left spitting out hooves, you do get the impression that Daisy might just be out back succumbing to a vigorous crash diet!

So, for all of you poorer gastronomes, and those of you needing a respite between fillet steaks, I will continue to tutor my ‘resident food taster‘ in the delights of a varied budget. Until we eat again I intend to be Juno.

Somebody has to…

Posted on January 26, 2014 by Steve Morgan

My ‘religious correspondent‘ has identified a source of tremendous salvation for all of you out there on the eight-lane black top, the car-dominated cities of the world, the highways and the freeways, the motorways and the turnpikes, in your smog and exhaust fume riddled existence… Jesus Loves You!

If you are reading this while driving along a Los Angeles freeway, the likelihood is that you are infringing rather than breaking any laws… as vehicular movement is likely to be minimal. As you glance at the Hollywood sign on the hill you are probably blissfully unaware of Gabalfa. But, as a cat steeped in observation of my surroundings, I can assure you that Gabalfa is the Cardiff based equivalent of your present dilemma. It is a point on the planet where a four-lane flyover intersects with a moment that bridges across the world as a simple dual carriageway spans East and West (as Eastern Avenue becomes Western Avenue, or vice versa depending on your direction of travel). This could quite easily be the Istanbul of Wales if it wasn’t for the complete lack of any culture, intellectual interest or iconic imagery.

I am particularly taken by the other-wordly claws at the bottom of the picture. Either this is the devil’s representative encroaching on the ‘heavenly love‘ bestowed on a bunch of non-descript residences flanking a few hundred metres of boring blacktop; or could it be that a wizzened old Gabalfarian has been religiously press-ganged into making an appearance to support the generosity of the claim made of the bearded one.

The following images are gratefully downloaded from internet sources to illustrate Glorious Gabalfa, and leave you in no doubt or uncertainty about the task faced by the lordly one in his love-spreading endeavours:

Until we speak again I have been your worshipful Juno, forever baffled by the claims attributed to and by religious faiths.

Bring me my sword

Posted on January 24, 2014 by Steve Morgan

In Cardiff it seems to play a minor role as a side to a mountain of chips, particularly on the infamous Caroline Street, so I take a rare trip back to my city of birth to satisfy my sophisticated taste for the tasty swimmy things… in short I need some quality fish! Ok, so my ‘fishmonger general‘ provides me with morsels of M&S poached salmon for a treat now and then, but I am talking serious consumption here.

Billingsgate Fish Market may have moved from the convenience of the river close by, to its location since 1982 at Canary Wharf, but there is a little known corner of Borough Market in south-east London that I trust sources nothing but quality goods, and not to be mistaken it is a restaurant conveniently called Fish!

Under cover of darkness I slink my way through the forever changing market architecture…

and with the looming spectre of Southwark Cathedral in the background I anticipate nothing less than a religious experience. Even The Shard will have to take a back seat role on this canvas, as I and a trusty companion are cats on a mission… to celebrate christmas on the 22nd January!!! Not bad really, we have done it in June before now.

Thai fish cakes and a bruschetta offer tantalising starters, while a fabulous New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc demands to be savoured:

But I didn’t come all of this way to be denied my prize. Whilst my compadre shows interest in a delicate piece of halibut, I demand my sword… fish with some serious attitude. I have come for nothing less than the perfectly grilled swordfish, ok, and some delightfully arranged chips as a side dish (and more of that New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc!):

I can satisfyingly say I was not disappointed, and this was one fish that can be proud of its sacrifice. Even the accompanying pak choi and carrots were lightly cooked to add a little snap to the meal, all perfectly complemented by the light and fluffy chips.

Even with the possibility of trains thundering overhead, I have been a satiated Juno, and until we speak again I can strongly recommend that you get yourselves along to Borough Market and check out a quiet little corner where your sword awaits you.

Cultural lowlights

Posted on January 19, 2014 by Steve Morgan

Looking back on 2013 one of the main events in Cardiff came and went with little or no fanfare in the cultural media. A new outdoor venue opened and closed with the same event…

Some say it was the reformed American rock band from the 1960’s The Byrds, particularly known for their most famous track Tern! Tern! Tern!

Yet fewer of the locals were attracted by the rumoured reformation of the original Girls Aloud line-up being signed up to officially open the new venue… though it did seem to be good news in Swansea and a crowd excitedly flocked to Cardiff for the event.

The missing masses managed to avoid the show’s highlight, as the new girl band attempted to recreate the iconic visuals of the former TLC’s ‘Waterfalls’ track, where the band are seen standing on water…

and subsequently disappear into it…

Admittedly, it was a hard act to follow and the Cardiff rendition may have needed more work:

It is safe to say that the unexpectedly poor attendance should have been seen, built as it was on no publicity:

But the memory of the iconic Fillmore East venue in New York can continue to rest in peace, as there is no clear or present danger of the Bute Dock East entering the cannon of great music venues any time soon.

Until we speak again I have been Juno trying to drop a few ideas to the local authorities about using their vast watery space around the corner from my pad.

Haggis hunting

Posted on January 16, 2014 by Steve Morgan

My ‘deluded gastronome‘ has an occasional penchant for testing the powers of curiosity bestowed on my species. Just the other day I was issued with a food-related challenge, and being perpetually tired of a bland rocks & water diet I thoughtlessly accepted the challenge. “It’s haggis shooting season at the start of each new year” I was dubiously informed, and ““they taste at their best when cooked freshly caught.” Anything to get away from the vet’s Science Plan products, so off I went on a clueless trail in search of the mythical haggi.

Cardiff doesn’t seem to be over-supplied with haggis emporia, and after a brief sniff around the market and Wally’s Delicatessen in the Royal Arcade I realised this was going to require a serious adventure. Stowing away in the baggage compartment of what I can only describe as a flying shed (that’s the plane, not Cardiff Airport, or is it both?) the next stop was…

At least I understood that these creatures were quintessentially Scottish, so let’s go search the capital… but were in Edinburgh do you start, the World Heritage architecture is everywhere:

Jenners department store and the Old Waverley Hotel provide an imposing backdrop to the Scott Memorial on Princes Street.

Historic buildings line the hillside from the castle at Arthur’s Seat and Holyrood Park all the way up to Edinburgh Castle.

If the castle is where the haggis hang out they seem to be well protected by gun emplacements. But all of these tourists ambling around would surely be aware if a gastronomic delicacy was hiding out in such a popular venue.

Then there are the myriads of old courtyards and alleyways to scurry about and hide away in:

To make things more difficult I spy one of those ubiquitous tourist buses on the Royal Mile… hopefully they are not all searching in packs for the same quarry as me?

One thing I am learning quick is that the haggis is difficult to catch; they are full of heart and lungs, and once sighted they are offal! I have to admit to being temporarily fooled by the sight of what I thought were haggis’s left out to dry, before sale along the Royal Mile:

But I quickly realised there is a plethora of bald Scotsmen graciously giving up their pelts for the benefit of the older American tourist trade. In fact this one had donated so much of himself to tourism that he now needed an external stomach complete with a feeding tube… serious sacrifice man!

I certainly hope these haggis characters haven’t chosen the underneath of the kilt and sporran combination for warmth and a secure hiding place… I for one happen to be too much of a lady to check!

I was beginning to lose heart in my quest… was the haggis really just an illusionary character from fiction established to taunt the unwitting newcomer to these parts? But then I had a significant tip-off as to where I might satisfy my mission, and appetite. The haggis had recently been seen on Cockburn Street:

Following the lead I was surely closing in on my prey. The signs were promising indeed:

The Arcade on close inspection resembled nothing like an arcade. At least Cardiff had one over on the Scottish capital when it came to real arcades! But in this context who cares… the sign says ‘Haggis and Whisky House‘; with any luck my prey might even be sozzled enough to make capture simple.

The journey and challenge results in a most worthwhile prize, and the haggis comes with a whisky sauce to compliment the tatties and neeps layered beneath the gallant but vanquished foe.

As I recline, stroking satisfied whiskers after consuming the melt-in-the-mouth feast, I have to admit that the haggis may be claiming a late victory, as I am now what can only be described being close to the Royal Mile as regally stuffed. I have a choice… for some strange reason The Arcade seem to have anticipated the effect of haggis overload on certain customers, so they advertise breakfast on the ceiling for those who find the horizontal to be the most comfortable pose in the hours after the haggis has been consumed:

If even more eating isn’t the ticket for you, why not try the remedy favoured by the fitter few locals, there are plenty of steps for exercise:

Personally, I chose to look in on the famous Rose Street in the New Town part of the city… probably one of the most challenging pub crawls any cat could wish to attempt.

The Kenilworth offered a couple of Harviestoun Brewery’s finest… a ‘Blond Bombshell’ and the end of the seasonal ‘Sleigh Driver’. All that was left to say was bon voyage haggis, as it was carried away on a sea of fine lotion.

It was time for me to bid a fond farewell to the never less than dramatic city of Edinburgh and return to my ‘resident scribbler‘ to relate my triumphant response to the challenge… and to suggest a place where the old git could retire to:

Enough of the flying sheds, I think I have found an altogether more space crafty way of returning back to Cardiff. Well if Dr Who can do it!

Until we speak again I am Juno wishing you all an ‘och aye the noo’, and good luck in your haggis hunting.

Guns & Hammers

Posted on January 11, 2014 by Steve Morgan

[A number of pictures have been retrieved from google images, and I offer my thanks to all the cool cats who have created and shared them]

After the recent visit of the Black Cats I am once again left conflicted with this football tribal allegiance thing… the arrival of West Ham United tugs on my coat. It’s a reminiscence thing taking me back to the kitten years, as I emerged this wonderful in the less than salubrious Republic of Newham in East London. My more recent elevation to Cardiff via a brief sojourn in Blackheath even began in a cat sanctuary down the road from West Ham’s Old Boleyn ground. I must admit I fell off my throne laughing when I heard that they are about to move into the Olympic Stadium… that’s a triumph of ambition over ability if I have ever heard of one.

Should I be supporting the ‘Hammers‘ on their brief trip into foreign territory? The question soon fades into obscurity when my ‘in-house sports correspondent‘ tells me the home team really did dispense with the Malky god-like character, but have replaced him with a Norwegian Gunnar.

Compatriots of my superior species are quick to remind me of the power of the gun over the hammer:

What’s more these hammers seem to be arriving in wilting rubber mallet mode, having lost 5-0 & 6-0 in the last week:

Sam Allardyce My resident ‘wishful thinker‘ tells me that things come in 3’s. Yes, I say, you have had one very good manager sacked, only two to go! As long as Looney Tunes remains the dominant soundtrack at the Cardiff City Stadium it will be difficult for the home fans to build confidence through a triumph of hope over nut-job-ery.

It is 3.00p.m. on a sunny January Saturday afternoon, and the Ole’s armoury are setting their sights on any old East London iron (the hammers are also known as the ‘ironsiders). However, it seems that 11 home team players haven’t read the script, as they set about a recently familiar trait of not bothering to turn up for the first 45 minutes… a peculiarly Welsh trait shared with the national rugby team, only their illustrious rugby counterparts have a track record of barnstorming second half success not yet learned by these naive Purple Dragonbirds. After a long delay through serious injury to one of the bubble-blowers (West Ham fans never tire of singing ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’… though I am not aware of bubbles’s thoughts on the matter!), their average but dominating team score. The home team play a familiar laid-back game with slow passing and often beating an ignominious retreat when they should be pressing forward in attack.

Half-time arrives 10 minutes later than planned to resounding boos from home fans. Cardiff City 0 – 1 West Ham United. Surely the second half must see something of a response for the long-suffering home fans.

True enough, the home side come out fighting, pushing for an equalising goal, and with 30 minutes still left to go they gain a dubious reward of seeing their opponents reduced to 10 men as their captain is sent off for a second yellow card (not a dubious decision, more a dubious idea of it being a reward). Over 30 minutes are played out with Cardiff almost entirely in the West Ham half and do at last get some shots on target, but nothing to trouble an average goal-keeper. Some urgency is injected by their oldest player on the pitch, but others still seem plagued by a need to play slow methodical passes around the pitch with little end product.

Those of you who know something about these types of matches will not be surprised to hear that West Ham had a solitary second half attempt on the Cardiff goal in time added on… and score! Cue a mass exodus by the home fans, with various comments along the line of ‘the ref is *&$%er’, ‘we was robbed’, and ‘it’s a mess’. In the words of the Coen Brothers (from No Country for Old Men) ‘if it isn’t a mess, it will do until the mess turns up‘.

For the record the final score is:

0 – 2

So, it transpires that the guns were largely silent, and the ‘iron‘ did enough to secure all the points without threatening to appear solid or imposing. As for my ‘heap of domestic despondency‘ there seems to be a triumph of reality over hope, as the local team have now managed to draw and then lose to a couple of the very few teams that were below them in the table. I dare to mention the ‘R’ word (relegation), but heads are bowed in dark contemplation.

Until we speak again I am probably going to be ‘suicide watch’ Juno, and all belts and laces have been removed!.

	Steve Morgan on Over there in Barrytown
	Wanda Rusiecki on Over there in Barrytown
	Steve Morgan on Smak Ukrainski
	meerkatlegendaryab73… on Smak Ukrainski
	Wanda Rusiecki on Solidarity

JUNO's VIEW

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