A very large and long white furry coat is advancing up the underground escalator in front of me. Inside it is a funky lady who strides out into the dusk of Govan Cross when we reach the top.
A gang of young revellers is standing near the bus stop making merry on this Christmas Eve. One of them spots her and shouts out, "Aw naw lads - look oot, it's a polar berr" and starts dancing round about, making loud roaring noises. Another of his daft pals joins in. She pays them no heed, neither looking to the left nor to the right, but proceeds along the pavement with her head held high. Eventually they trail away and return to their spot at the cross on the lookout for more carry-on.
Christmas Eve, and there's hustle and scurry zipping through the air. Lights beam and gleam from windows as shoppers return from town laden with bags and hasten through the gloom of the night. Last minute packets of frozen brussels sprouts and, oh no, nae chipolatas left at Farmfoods!
Merry Christmas to Govanites everywhere - hope Santa's good to you!
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