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.
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