In Watson's this morning, I buy half a dozen freshly baked rolls and then ask for two fruit scones and two plain.
"You get six for a pound," says the lady serving me.
"Give me six then - two Paris as well."
"Ye can't go wrong wi a scone," she says, and I nod in agreement. "They'll aye keep to the next day."
I savour the moment; the homeliness of the bakery, the aroma, the wee signs still stuck on the glass counter, though scraping off a bit, the same floor, the same ceiling, the same fittings since ever I remember. And, the friendliness and warmth that makes Govan great.
I go out into the world, full of nostalgia and resolving to show that same couthiness to the next person I meet.