I've dashed along Govan Road, into the bank, across to the post office and back out again before I suddenly notice our Christmas lights which seem to have sparkled into existence from nowhere. Two bright parcels, one twinkling red and another glittering green, have attached themselves to lampposts outside Farmfoods and further down at the pawn.
As I hand over my money in Greggs, the wumman says, "Your hands are freeeeezin!" which takes me by surprise as they don't feel like it to me but back outside, I realise the temperature has dropped and there's a snap in the air, scented with spicy cinnamon from Shearer's candle factory.
And so, I take a minute to gaze on the Christmas lights bringing a festive feel to poor old Govan Cross. And I walk to the edge of the pavement and stop again, this time to look at Govan New, its honey stone illuminated against a sapphire blue sky, which is the setting for a rising half moon, pearlescent and radiant, its face so distinct tonight, beaming benevolently upon us.