Fog has crept in overnight and Govan awakes to a dark morning of swirling vapours. And so it remains all day as the clock advances to noon when the mists grow whiter and then gradually darken deeper and deeper till night falls.
At teatime, business is brisk at the take-away food emporia along the Govan Road with people dashing in and out for their evening meal. In homes, pots are bubbling, ovens roasting and microwaves humming as cooks prepare dinner.
All at once every light on the southside switches off and we are plunged into instant darkness. For a moment there is silence, and then a shuffling and murmuring as attempts are made to check the electricity.
Outside on the streets all is quiet too until sounds of voices can be heard calling out through the gloom.
"It's the electric - who didnae pay the bill"
Loud laughing, a whoop, a scream.
As your eyes adjust, faint shapes of people can be seen holding aloft little squares of light - the display panels of mobile phones.
In tenement windows flickering candles and flashing torchlight cast an eerie glow.
On the street, a woman glides along like a ghost, a burning candle on an ornate brass candlestick in her hand.
An hour or more passes before the cheery lamps are restored and delayed dinner is eaten and we catch up with the evening news and how the world has been doing since we dropped out of it for a little while.