Today is a beautiful, icy morning. The sun sparkles upon the surface of the graving dock, wherein flotsam and jetsam have been frozen solid; tyres, cans, junk.
Throughout the day, the temperature never goes above freezing. As evening falls, me and Wee Raberta are in a car, driving outta Govan. Outside the Liquor Barn, a toddler is standing on the cold, hard ground with bare feet and a nappy on and only a wee vest. He's got a bottle and two old men are bending over talking to him.
"Aaaahhhh!" screams Wee Rab, "did you see that?"
"Waaahhh!" I scream too as we zoom onto the roundabout at Golspie Street.
Govan gets more and more Victorian every time you turn around.