Chez Juno

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?

Recipe of the week

A great meal starts with fresh ingredients…

Then, with a creative twist and more than a little culinary incompetence, AKA, whatever you have left in the kitchen… It’s a duck in pea soup special…

Until we speak again, the first customer is dressed for dinner down in Atlantic Wharf, Cardiff… It’s just another tale of local laid-back life!

Social Intrusion

“You come any closer with that camera and you will need more than a pair of tweezers to remove it from where I’ll put it! What do you think this is… a fashion shoot?”

“Hey ladies, I’m sure we’re okay with these pillars being 2 metres apart… but watch out for the strange dude with a camera at 4 o’clock!”

“Back off sneaking up on folks like that. By the way… does my bum look too big in this?”

Until we speak again, Juno never did do sneaking up that well…

Art of the night walker

Going down the docks after dark just doesn’t seem to hold the same threat as it used to!

An autumn blend of colourful speculation, cultural reflection and historic reminiscence can provide a soothing balm for the mental health.

Even some of the more bizarre architectural oddities can assume a new persona… Cardiff Noir anyone!?

Until we speak again, a gentle nighttime stroll may even occasionally illuminate some of life’s mystery’s… like whether pedestrians and cyclists will ever see eye-to-eye.

Rude awakening

Leave me alone… I’m trying to make sense of this pandemic thing.

Perhaps gravity will come to my rescue!

Until we speak again, trust me… swanning about is the only way to cope with this restricted way of being!

Toys for boys

For those of you in lockdown missing such delights as the ‘hooking a duck’ stall at your funfair of choice, Cardiff has ‘The Swan Catcher’ as a toys for boys bigger version on offer…

Until we speak again, don’t forget to throw it back in when caught, as QEII wouldn’t be happy… it would be like putting a corgi into a hot dog!!

Social distancing

“You humans do like to convolute your language. How are you getting on with your self-isolating, eh? Some things just come natural to those of us who live uncomplicated lives. If you do manage to perfect your walking-on-water technique, you still need to keep your 2 metres distance, okay!”

Lonely swan Mar 2020

Until we speak again, go away!

Flight interrupted

So, you think you’re having problems trying to get flying, with all of this pandemic stuff going on? Stay grounded, they said, in the jargon of psychobabble. Well, you try taking off with this thing strapped to your legs!

Bird Anchored [1]

Until we speak again, stay safe and well. The option of flight is a luxury many can return to at a later date. For some, it’s just what we do!

Return to 2020 Vision

[Acknowledgements to the Bute East Dock for providing the full cast for the following drama].

Events across 2016 to 2019 , on both sides of the Atlantic, have arguably led to what can only politely be referred to as a foggy funk of an experience…

2020 foggy Bute East Dock

So, as a fully paid up member of the ‘UK Metropolitan Liberal Elite‘, I have to concede that the ‘Majority 38% Will of the People Brigade‘ have triumphed in the prolonged political battle of barefaced lies versus ineffectual bullshit.

I have never been one to believe in the power of new year resolutions, but as we all embark on the Brexiters’ journey to the most bountiful and wondrous promised land of 19th Century independent beneficence, I have a wish… and that is that the 38% now completely own their self-proclaimed victory. Once the hard right prospectus that has been bought into begins to deliver on its empty promises let’s hear no excuses, or deflection of blame onto those who still don’t buy the catalogue of deceptions, or onto the EU, or onto immigrants, or onto anyone else but their own deluded selves.

Talking of deluded selves; a glance across the pond to the incoherent rumblings of Dumbfuckistan prompt another wish… that the Twitter-fuelled comedic interlude of the last few years be terminated in November, and some semblance of sanity be reclaimed from the ‘orange peril’ that has swamped the free-thinking world.

Until we speak again, reality is likely to dictate otherwise, but we can only dream of a return to 2020 vision…

Long Dock

Cardiff Sharks?

No, it’s not another one of those failed rugby league franchises emerging yet again to demonstrate the wrong way of playing the egg-chasing game in the capitol of the union. It’s more to do with scary visions at 29 degrees, wandering around the neighbouring Bute East Dock on a hot afternoon in Cardiff

While fisherman shelter in their army-surplus rigs on the wrong side of the dock, the creatures of the deep quietly lurk, as if sheltering in natural fjords…

Unbeknownst to the slumbering fisher’s of men from far afield, locally we have developed our own fishing rod technology capable of dealing with the challenge of the Cardiff Sharks

Crane

Then, all of a sudden the calm surface is broken, as if Loch Ness had suddenly relocated 500 miles south…

Fish [3]

Fish [4]

Ducks scramble to take up anything that might resemble protection from what lurks beneath, clearly taking turns at being lookout…

Ducks on pontoon

But for one poor creature, carrying an anchor strapped to your legs is surely going to be an obstacle to survival…

Bird Anchored [1]

Because, if you can’t be fleet-footed or quick on the wing the Cardiff Sharks will know… and then you’re GONE!

Gone!!

Until we speak again, Juno used to occasionally be intrigued by the scent of Cardiff Sharks, wafting on the breeze coming from the direction of the dock.

Plotting an escape