Tag Archives: Cardiff Market

Nelson was a cool cat

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For all he did for black cats everywhere I am truly saddened to hear the news of the passing of Nelson Mandela. Though amongst the millions of sincere outpourings of grief and reminiscence, it does leave me coughing up fur balls to witness some of the politicians clambering onto the number one bandwagon of the moment. The great man himself said in the Pretoria courthouse in 1962 “If I had my time over I would do the same again. So would any man who calls himself a man.” Fortunately for South Africa and the world he had another 51 years left, and fulfilled a considerable promise.

As I contemplate lunch…    … and lie back to    listen to the ongoing tributes, I am sure that the Gorgeous Georges’ of the US & UK (Dubya and Osbourne) would act on Mandiba’s advice, in not hesitating to do the same again. Though for them it would more likely be a case of screwing over the many for the benefit of their already rich mates. David Cameron spoke of ‘ his heart going out to [his] family and the people of South Africa’… I say prep Operating Theatre 1 for surgery quickly.

Desmond Tutu, the patron saint of the drawn match (2-2, come on, keep up!), said of Mandela “He was renowned the world over as the undisputed icon of forgiveness and reconciliation.” I am sure I can adopt that lead, when my ‘appointed servant’ gets their act together and provide me with more of that roast turkey from Cardiff Market. Bill Clinton said “Nelson Mandela taught us so much about so many things…” Personally, I do hope that Mandela was not a cigar smoker, as even Bill must have had some original thoughts of his own.

Perhaps I need to cast our memories back a few decades (or ‘dickheads’ as Nelson pronounced it) to find the true essence of the person. Some old dame or another became famous for repeatedly referring to Mandela as a terrorist… well the first thought that comes to my mind is that it takes one to know one, particularly if you build a career on terrorising the weak and the poor of your own country in order to break the spirit of the hard working people in the industrial communities. The following image sums up contrasting leadership styles: a warm smiling generous spirit who can stand upright and proudly face all people, and a hunched evil purveyor of misery always looking over their shoulder (make your own choice as to which is which)…

Margaret Thatcher and Nelson Mandela

The only real tribute this cat can pay to the passing of an icon is to try and follow the lead he embodied through his life. With this in mind, I am stoically trying to shoulder the pressures and burdens of my imprisonment in my own personal Robben Island:

Sunshine at 14 2           Plotting an escape

And I can only sit and wile away the time as I contemplate my own personal long walk to freedom. When I am finally released I promise to treat all cats equally… the strange albino types, ginger toms, even those fluffy persian types (who I am sure have nothing to do with any accusations of terrorism based solely on their middle-eastern sounding origins). Until we speak again I have been Juno, and I can only sign off today with an R.I.P. Johannesburg Cool Cat.

Boss-4-Us

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Just when I was getting ready to step up to the leadership plate one of my dedicated followers says “Bosphorus in Turkey, not a boss for us!” Us cats don’t care too much for geography, we just need a little bit of immediate territory to dominate, and then it’s just a matter of employing personal travel advisers and taxi drivers. But ‘turkey’ does get the imagination going, and I am already dreaming of my favourite spot in Cardiff Central Market, ‘J.H. Morgan’s meat extravaganza and vegetarians nightmare’ since way back in Victorian times…

Turkey [1]

 

 

 

… and more importantly what it looks like on a plate at home:

Turkey [2]

 

How undignified, I am drooling at the thought of these images, when my so called companions are off out of the door muttering something about a Turkish restaurant with views over the bay and a place where east meets west in culture and tastes.

Bosphorus [2]

 

Looks a bit precarious to me… sitting over water inside or outside sounds more like an ordeal, but my personally appointed aquatic representatives say it enhances the views across the bay and gives it a sense of separateness from some of those run-of-the-mill chain restaurants clustering along the shoreline. The Bosphorus Turkish Restaurant seems to have an interesting menu, so I am slightly perplexed when the starters ordered suggest there has been an invasion of grass munchers:

Bosphorus [4]

 

What is it with the stuffed vine leaves and salad garnish with pitta bread? Looks well presented… if you like that kind of thing. Enough to drive a water-drinking cat to down that Turkish Efes beer in meat-driven desperation.

Bosphorus [6]

Relief soon arrives with the main course… I must learn to trust my surrogate food-tasters. My kind of culinary variety is meat, garnished with meat, with a side of meat, and maybe an isolated vegetable decorating the table to tantalise the weak and mild. I am more impressed by a vision of mixed shish v lamb cutlets, even if both plates do have to give up space for rice and salad accompaniments.

This was a very relaxing way to spend an hour or so satisfying the need for a mid-afternoon lunch while strolling around Cardiff Bay. It looks like it might also be a place for that evening meal or special occasion, as other reviews seem to largely suggest.

Bosphorus [3]

 

I’ve been Juno, and Turkey seems good to me either on a plate or as a restaurant. I will speak with you again soon when I have turned that vision of turkey on a plate into my own tasty treat.