First there was a hard Brexit…
But where exactly has that one gone?
Then there was a soft Brexit…
![Squirrell [3]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2018/02/squirrell-3.jpg?w=584)
Which is proving to be just as elusive…
So, just when everything appears to be going arse over tit…
… look for Juno or Bella when you need an answer?
Until we speak again, Juno reckons it will be a hard fought draw, going to penalties… which the Germans always win!
So there I was, in this crazy cats kind of world, suddenly finding myself back in Llanelli. Now, for those of you who haven’t been, you might just be wondering why go in the first place? And, for those who have been to this run down post-industrial area of south-west Wales, the source of wonderment is… why go back a second time? Well, we can’t always choose where the work is going to take us, is the plain simple answer to that conundrum.
However, once drawn into its web of intrigue, don’t expect things to be as they usually are! For a start there are the Castle Buildings as a prime place to stay… but it’s not the traditional Welsh castle that you might have been led to expect?
The hotel occupying this so-called castle site is the Vista Hotel… but I suggest you revise your expectations of vista’s before you arrive!
However, there is one thing that should cause most unsuspecting cats to pause (or is that paws?) before they pounce… it’s always interesting when your meal looks you in the eye and says ‘Your move!’
![Surf and Turf [2]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2017/04/surf-and-turf-2.jpg?w=584)
The thing is… where to get the energy to launch an escape beyond the orbit of Llanelli’s gravitational pull? Rest assured, cats wishing to get out of the bag can take on an early morning full (Welsh/English) breakfast…
Though be warned… the food in this place might just be enough to tempt you stay… at least until the next meal, if for no other exciting reason!
Until we speak again, Juno will display the level of industriousness now associated with the former powerhouses of Welsh industry…
Let it go folks… once President Obama was out of the door there was no longer an option for dignity and oratory. One Clinton may have dignity, and another may have oratory, but none of them have both. As for the new incumbent… well, viewing from afar is like watching a good friend skidding down the road heading straight into a slow motion car crash.
The 8 year experience of slick Obama speak has lulled us into a false sense of expectation. The new zeitgeist of the nightmarish dark hours tweet fest is beginning to look something altogether different…
Little did we know that the poor little bum-crack combover was being spied on, by the order of the outgoing President and through the skilled practitioners of the UK spy industry…
There is no value in challenging these facts, because they are carefully disguised in an evidence-free shroud where conspiracy theory has become incontrovertible. To mangle a quote from Groucho Marx “I have facts, but if you don’t like them, well, I have other facts!”
George W Bush might well have been the prime architect of Dumbfuckistan, but for those of you who have lamented its passing, fret no more. Evidence is beginning to pour in from the focal point of the free-world to suggest that Dumbfuckistan has been resurrected and is thriving again in its assault on rational thought.
For a start, just the other day I was browsing my weekly digest of national and international news, when I nearly choked on my personal sense of my place on the planet. It seems the new administration of the country that wants to tell the world how to be has just scrapped requirements on major telecoms providers to take reasonable measures in order to protect our data from the hands of unscrupulous vultures. Then there is the perennial Republican favourite… “want guns, have guns, get your hands off my guns buddy.” Good news for the equal rights for the mentally disturbed lobby, as those declared mentally incapable of managing their own affairs are at least free to buy guns!
It seems this freedom from rational thinking is rapidly filtering down from the White House and Capitol Hill, to State legislatures. Why, only the other day the good folk of Arkansas realised a way of grabbing a bargain before deadline day… it seems their stocks of killer drugs are fast approaching their sell-by-date. A State that has not executed anybody in 12 years has found a solution to the dilemma of wasting perfectly good stocks of lethal injection juice… let’s have some mass executions while stocks still last!
If the so-called Islamic State were ever in need of some fresh thinking, there is an abundant source of ideas simply oozing from the resurrected state of Dumbfuckistan.
As for Bella, she was always well prepared with a copy of the relevant constitutional amendments for any challenge to her right to take down any animate or inanimate object of her choosing.
Until we speak again, sleep tight, and try not to let those early morning tweets bight!
It’s been a week where cats in leadership roles have again stirred very different emotions, and focused attention on the meaning of ‘doing a number 2’!
Litter trays at the ready… as Donald Trump talked in the USA of planning for a second term, though his penchant for Twitter should excite many cats to assume a pose ready to pounce. Then our very own Jeremy Corbyn in the UK showed us what walking away from leadership looks like when he denied any responsibility for a catastrophic outcome in one, and a lacklustre outcome in a second political by-election.
So, not for the first time, I find myself reflecting that when the despondency of current politics deals you a couple of blows, there is always the surreal nature of football to provide that pick-me-up. No, not the double-quick time of Claudio Ranieri’s despicable departure at Leicester City. I’m talking our very own leader, the mighty Neil Warnock talking about his intentions for a second season at the Cardiff City Stadium.
The white-shirted interloper cats from London, in the form of Fulham FC, arrived with claws poised ready to deal with any bluebirds in their line of sight.
But, with the home team led at the front with two goals from our striker, Kenneth Zohore, an entertaining and uplifting match ended Desmond (Tutu)…
Until we speak again, I fondly remember Juno and Bella as two cats that exhibited particularly feline leadership traits of sleeping, eating and often looking at me with a general air of disdain.
Well, if it’s good enough for the ‘Man Fart’ in Washington D.C., then it’s good enough for the War-lord in Cardiff!
As the massed ranks take their place to witness the pageantry, all await the Gettysburg, no, Cardiff City Stadium address…
“We’re going to make the Bluebirds great, again!”
“We’re going to build a wall to keep the others out!”
“And we’re going to make the Albion pay for it!”
Until we speak again, don’t blink with the boredom of the first 91 minutes, the outrageous promises of the previous campaign may have been missing, but you don’t want to miss the big moment!
The Momentum of the Corbynistas defies belief. You just can’t beat an activist when it comes to the world of delusion. Let’s take it as a given that within the Labour tribe there is nothing even slightly resembling a credible alternative narrative at this point in time.
The issue is the numbers game… the same activists point to their numbers as the movement that will sweep their ideology into government in just over 3 years time; that they are somehow representative of a potential majority of the electorate. Any challenge that their membership represents anything less than the bright light advancing from a horizon to illuminate our dark lives will be met with instant derision.
Talking of the delusion of numbers… there is nothing like a modern day struggling Championship football club for slavishly trying to attract the paying advertisers with promises of attendances that simply defy belief. Why, just this weekend the claim is that 14,754 people attended a match where the number of goals actually threatened to outnumber the spectators. Count the thousands for yourself…
For the record the final score on this week before Christmas was Cardiff City 3 Barnsley 4.
Until we speak again, Juno always knew it would be slightly quicker to count the number of people at the local match than it would be to count the number of leaves outside her window. On occasions her world view could be marginally more exciting, and certainly more interesting than listening to a politically driven ideological diatribe based in the fantasies of a deluded minority.
Have you heard the one about David and Goliath? If you haven’t, just ask Zac Goldsmith. Anyone remember Zac? He’s the rich boy, former Tory politician who came up against the son of a Muslim bus driver, or so we were constantly told.
Well, so-called smart guy Zac didn’t exactly display many smarts in his campaign to become Mayor of London; deciding to follow some ill-conceived advice about pitching a mendacious focus on racism that completely back-fired. Mr Khan played the clever game, and is now the much liked Mayor of London. Go for it, Sadiq!
Well, dear silver spooned Mr G. then decides to play the ‘resignation on principle’ card. Playing to the favours of his super-rich constituents in a very leafy part of south-west London in order to be returned to parliament as an independent (aka a Tory in an ill-fitting disguise) . On this occasion the Tory wealth machine complacently came up against a Lib-Dem (who are they again?) woman, Sarah Olney (about as high profile as her political party these days). Sarah and the L-D’s play a canny game, and guess what? Yes, she is returned as the surprise new MP for Richmond Park.
Juno wasn’t exactly backward in coming forward with the canny game. Here she plays the half-cat-half-door routine to lull unsuspecting goliath’s into her trap…
So, what has this got to do with anything, you ask? Well, just last night we had the appetising spectacle of a bluebird coming up against a wolf.
No contest, you shout! Well, just ask Zac Goldsmith about no contests. Certainly before the game started there was a moment (see the two opposing players nearest the camera) where the essentially dog routine of sniffing arses looked about to break out in a public place…
Two minutes into the match, and a thunderous strike from the wolf leaves the bluebird reeling… the obvious outcome of such inequality is only a matter of time. But, canny games are afoot, as the home team contrive to imitate a bunch of turkeys in search of a christmas oven. When David Coleman described football as a game of two halves, he was clearly clairvoyant with a futuristic view of this match. Two second half strikes from the Bluebirds and they put the canny in the can.
Until we speak again, for the record the final score on the hazy scoreboard represents Cardiff City (Bluebirds) 2 Wolverhampton Wanderers (Wolves) 1.
First came Brexit then came Trump… the certainties of years of liberal ways of thinking and being were suddenly and unceremoniously being thrown out.
The power of numbers can be an amazing thing… for the minority who blatantly command the proceeds of wealth, to the detriment of the majority who are left to pick up the tab, there will eventually be one outcome…
Spare a thought (but little else) for the greedy who now find themselves in times of turmoil and upheaval. A mere flicker of hope from the recesses of a Richmond Park by-election may well ignite flimsy thoughts of a return to the promised land, but a lack of leadership does not bode well.
And so it came to pass, on a cold afternoon in the Cardiff City Stadium. The liberal elite of London-by-Sea (aka Brighton & Hove Albion) high-rolled into town, with thoughts of rising to the number one spot in the Championship table, and a step closer to the promised riches of the Premier League. But this is the home of the Bluebirds, a solemn breed who have all-too-briefly tasted a seat at the top table, and harbour strange thoughts of returning. Strange indeed, as there seems to be a new take on the concept of enlightened leadership…
For the record, the travelling Liberal Elite of Brighton were reduced to 10 men shortly before the conclusion of a 0-0 bore-fest. An afternoon that brought an outcome not too dissimilar to that of recent referendum and election experiences, for those with aspirations that ignore the reality for the majority.
Until we speak again, Broadsheet Bella seems to be looking in vain for a way out of the present darkening days (and Cardiff City FC struggle to find a way out of the grip of the relegation zone).
Juxtaposition, symmetry, curvilinear, articulation, truncated, composition… what world do architects live in? Come to think of it, pick a profession, any profession, and you will not have to look far before you get bogged down in the jargon of self-importance.
As a cat who observes local architecture with a critical eye, I feel Cardiff has an ability to identify modern architectural styles that cut through the unfathomable nonsense of obscure language. In many cases, the only true nonsense is the architectural style itself… but you make your own judgement on that observation.
Sharp and groovy…
Pointy…
Curvy not groovy…
Wavy…
Spiky…
Mind-boggling (c/o the BBC)…
Just plain baffling…
Until we speak again, Bella reminds us that the devil is in the detail… if you can be bothered looking for it!
Gazing across Cardiff Bay can easily trigger contemplation, even in the least philosophical of cats. Across the water lies the barrage that gives rise to this expanse of life aquatic. Then there is the majestic Penarth headland, inviting mystery as to what lies beyond…
![Barrage [2]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/barrage-2.jpg)
Tantalisingly out of reach are the mythic islands of Flatholm and Steepholm, worthy of exploration if you can still find an intrepid sea dog to convey over the channel. But what is that strange protrusion at the foot of the headland?
![Flatholme and Steepholme [3]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/flatholme-and-steepholme-3.jpg)
One of Penarth’s many attractions dates back to the late Victorian era; an age when the coastline of Britain (back when it was Great!) needed wood and metal embellishments, so that people could experience walking above water. The pier was a ubiquitous adornment to any self-respecting seaside town; a place to take-in the bracing sea air, or indulge in frivolous amusement in pavilions or arcades. Penarth Pier was no exception, including its later art deco addition in 1930…
[The image above is included with acknowledgement to Ben Salter on Flickr.]
![Penarth [1]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/penarth-1.jpg)
![Penarth [2]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/penarth-2.jpg)
But, be wary of the history of this structure before you venture forth in anticipation. 1931 (fire), 1947 (collision), and 1966 (collision) were dramatic years in its perilous existence. When you create a long and narrow appendage don’t be surprised if it occasionally suffers the occasional catastrophe. As with certain volcanoes, looking at those dates, the next one seems long overdue!
![Penarth [3]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/penarth-3.jpg)
For readers under the age of 25, the ‘No Fishing’ sign refers to aquatic creatures, not nefarious internet activity! Though judging from the level of occupation below, readers under 25 are far more likely to engage with Penarth Pier on a screen than in reality.
![Penarth [4]](https://stevemorgan57.files.wordpress.com/2016/09/penarth-4.jpg)
Until we speak again, I am going to assume a Bella-like state of contemplation, as I reflect on life beyond the barrage.
JUNO's VIEW 