Friday, 3 June 2016

Still A Good Night Apart From The Upset

The procession over, we take a walk along the banks of the River Clyde and gaze downstream to the naff big flats on the north shore.


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.
Really? oh, haha! Have to read it a few times though. There's definitely a line missing from this somewhere.

Fair To Rubbish

The 260 Merkland St is lumbering along with punters waving off the top deck. 
Wee bitta Country and a wee bitta RocknRoll from the Guzzle, now trading as The Amethyst
KT and sunshine dancers march on the spot as the procession slows up and grinds to a halt. We, who are waiting further on, make our way down to the Cross to see what ails them. And there you have it, in broad day-light and with hunners of people watching, boys with weapons set about other boys with weapons. On our side of the road, mums and grans are annoyed, very annoyed at they hooligans wasting it for everybody. S'pose so, but, there's got to be more to it than them just wanting to waste it - I mean, why do they want to waste it? Let's get to the root of that question and maybe we could make some headway.
Anyway, the polis play it all down, contain the violence, get some lads in their van and move along people, nothing to see here.

Sad Affair; The Opening

A grand welcome to the Govan Fair 2016 as we are regaled by the pipes and a bit of heedrum-hodrum, eyed suspiciously by the Ram's Heid and its keeper, surveyed by the Queen of the Fair and waved to by a bigwig on the top of a bus.

Fair Warm-Up

Hurray! Another Govan Fair rolls around and after a slap up feed at Cafe 13, we emerge onto the Squerr in the evening sun. The sounds of a jazz quartet resound amidst the buzz of conversations and occasional shouting, as the good people of Govan choose and re-choose their spot for the upcoming cavalcade.

My heart is relieved as I see Harry the Hat is here again with bubbles and glowsticks to keep the weans happy. We reminisce back to the days when we were engaged together in the printing of counterfeit notes, of many sorts. Good days, aye.
Intae the bucket! All in a good cause!
The Black Man looks studiously over the plans, his plans. Some people have been casting aspersions on his good name. Keep looking down and maybe it'll go away.
A soft fortress, welcoming but exacting, house of God in Govan, St. Anthony's. 
Actually, who was St. Anthony? Must look that up.