Thursday, 21 August 2014

Watsons Sausage Rolls

So relieved to have Watson's open again after their holiday closure in July It's scary to think this wonderful artisanal bakery in Govan's Shaw Street may not always be here. Like, I'm sure it will, but anyways, for the time being - and may that time long continue - let's celebrate the baked goods steaming through its ovens
Today, a light and flaky Sausage Roll. This baby is to die for. Golden pastry encases a lightly spiced sausage meat. Crunch through the first layer and down through the hot puff to swallow your first burning bite. A steaming, savoury richness warms your heart and as you lick your finger and run it round the inside of the paper bag, and into the corners of the poke to get the flaky crumbs, you always, without exception, wish you had bought two.

Thursday, 14 August 2014

A Commonwealth Cup

Glasgow's beaming. What a show we put on for the Commonwealth; undulating waves of love and cordiality abound, rising with the surging heat of early August.

A squad of us pass the gates of Govan Old when a sharp whistle draws our attention to the other side of the street. Without casting his eyes to left or right, Smudge briskly crosses over. No jacket tonight, his only concession to the heat.
"Did ye see any o the gemmes?" says he.
"Naw, naw, much better view on the telly."
"Aye, ye're right therr Ah'd've been as well styin' hame an'a," says he. 
"Whit tickets did you get?" 
"Jist the boxing, know."
Obviously. Smudge's flat and broken nose attests to his passion. 
"Aye, it wis an experience. Some place that Hydro. Wan visit'll dae me."
He screws up his face, mouth turned down, looking at us sideways,
"Went fur a cuppa tea. The lassie says, 'that's two pound please'. Two pound? says I. Ur ye sure it's no four pound?"
Hahaha we all laugh wryly, shaking our heads.
"Ah nivver made the prices she says"  and he mockingly mimics her huffy tone,
"Och, get tae - Ah says. Efter this, Ah'll no be back."

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Govan's Shores

Sun splitting the sky and we're sailing on the good ship Waverley today. Snapped some pics of Govan's shores. We set sail from the quay at the science centre and are soon steaming past the Graving Docks and Pumphouse. 
The canting basin, the Big Shed and flats of the Riverside
Govan Old

Wednesday, 6 August 2014

In Loving Memory

Alex's Ma's passed. Done well, achieved her three score year and ten plus near enough twenty, from cradle to grave in the streets of Govan. 

Hope it's ok to wear a white blouse with the funeral black in today's heat? Hope so. As I turn the corner, there's a solemn band of mourners congregating on the pavement outside Cockburns, talking in hushed voices, shaking hands, drawing on cigarettes.

Cockburns, established in 1932, is the last remaining family run funeral directors in Govan. The front room is fashioned as a comfortable living room, with sofas stationed around a fireplace, over which quite an interesting picture of Glasgow hangs. 
More people arrive and we move as a body into the parlour, dim and subdued. The keyboard, with organ stops selected, is playing a medley of Abide With Me's. We nod reverently to our friend, whose frail mortal shell lies in the casket, before taking our seats and sitting in quiet reflection.
A quick read through the hymnsheet and thoughts resurge of the lives and deaths of those whose passing we have commemorated and celebrated, over which we have grieved and felt relieved.
We sing the 23rd psalm, we say a prayer, we listen with appreciation to the achievements of a woman who brought up her boys, travelled many long miles between the cooker and the kitchen sink, enjoyed family life and felt the kindness of it in her last years. 

We emerge, blinking in the sunlight and wait for the party to gather. 
Some folks forget themselves and a few boisterous conversations strike up. 
One man hails my neighbour, "Haw, May, how's you? No seen you since ye were the turnkey at Orkney St." She laughs. "Dje remember yer niece goat lifted every weekend n ye had tae . . . "
"Aye, aye," she's saying, shaking her head and trying to quieten him a bit, "That's right,"
"Whit wis the lassie's name? That wis a laugh."
"Aye, she's dead noo," and she distracts him with talk of how he's keeping till the family file out and climb into the black saloons for the journey to Craigton.

Tuesday, 5 August 2014

sunny howat st

Alex's Ma's passed. Done well, achieved three score year and ten plus twenty, from cradle to grave and onto glory. 

Hope it's ok to wear a white blouse with the funeral black in today's heat? Hope so. Yes, as I turn the corner, there's a solemn band of mourners, congregating on the pavement outside Cockburns, talking in hushed voices, shaking hands, drawing on cigarettes.

The funeral parlour has a large window facing out to Govan Road, but it's discreetly covered by a vertical blind. The front room has been fashioned like a comfortable living room, with sofas stationed around a fireplace, over which quite an interesting picture of Glasgow hangs. 
 
More people arrive and we move as a body into the parlour, dim and subdued. The keyboard, with organ stops selected, is playing a medley of Abide With Me's. Some nod reverently to our friend, whose frail mortal shell lies in the casket, before taking a seat and sitting in quiet reflection.
A quick read through the hymnsheet and thoughts resurge over the lives and deaths of those whose passing we commemorated, celebrated, grieved and felt relieved over. 

On the way back round the road, I pass a garden of sleepy dogs sprawling in the warm sun. One of the hounds is leaping in and out the window of the ground floor. Two couples organise a barbecue for later. 

Friday, 1 August 2014

Welcome Home Destroyer

So, this is why that dredger was scooting back and forth last month. It was preparing the way for Type 45 Destroyer HMS Duncan as she returns to Govan where she was built and launched in 2010. Remember this?

Smackie the sailorman says that the massive ball on the top of the tower is a giant telescope that can see for miles, right round the curve of the earth!