I had no idea that Govan had once been bigger than Glasgow. I was excited by the decorative buildings, monuments and the stories of engineering innovation and rebellion, solidarity and kindness by Govan’s great men and women.
A cycle along the banks of the Clyde with the persistent drizzly rain made everything seem very familiar. There were parts of the Clyde where I felt I could have been cycling by the River Shannon in Ireland, with overhanging willow trees, the odd cormorant diving (presumably for eels), and the slow, deep water rising and falling with the tides.
After meeting representatives of community groups, I realised that the solidarity and support that Mary Barbour had harnessed still existed and was visible through networks of community groups and social enterprises. The social fabric of this city is a complex one.
The dry docks (they weren’t dry, it rained that day too!) surprised me, the community of trees and plants here are well established. I sat for an hour watching the locals quietly go about their business, the pigeons that live under the bridge, the butterflies feeding on the buddleia, the bees, spiders, the ducks, a young magpie family. All these creatures call this place home.