And here is the old ferry slipway which will in due course become a new bridge, carrying westenders over to Govan, to partake in its delights; hogback stones, the Fairfield museum, the Elder Park, and Watson's pies.
A forlorn and empty feeling descends upon the Govanites, as they contemplate the full year that must pass before this bewitching evening falls again.
It's party time, mon up . . . and the music's sorted with stevie's booooom box.
Whilst another crowd spill onto the Govan Road, not yet ready to go home.
The eye in the sky has been deployed to watch over an empty Govan Cross.
Malevolence? Benevolence? Doesn't matter. There's nobody here.