Me, wee raberta and the Govan Baby join maws, da's, grannies and grandas and mingle with people waiting for the bus outside Brechin's.
There's a dj filling in with announcements between songs, "Ok folks, it won't be long now till Glasgow council workers are here to take down the railings and we'll get the lights switched on. Don't worry, it'll no be long noo."
Another round of "So here it is, merry Christmas, everybody's havin' . ." and then a trio of Govan High girls take a turn each at the microphone to perform another Santa ditty.
Miaow, and the rats and their queen from Govan's panto "The Govan Cat" scuttle across the street to perform very flamboyant dancing. The Rat Queen snarls into the Govan Baby's pram and he stares back at her, quite unperturbed.
Suddenly the sound system breaks into Gangnam style and kids everywhere erupt into manic jigging and trotting.
"Hold on everyone, we've just had a message from Glasgow council to say they'll have a van here in the next 15 minutes to get the railings down and the lights on!"
It's dead cold, and in spite of his warm snow suit, the Govan Baby's not getting the option of staying to see Santa and his ma pushes him back up the road.
Fifteen minutes . . . it's a bit long to have to wait in this weather and I want to catch the bank before closing, but notice a bit of action on the steps of the P.I.
I loiter for a moment on the kerb and am rewarded with a Santa sighting. He skips smartly down the steps and crosses the road, scliffing his feet as he goes.
And is that a self conscious expression on your face Santa? And why do you keep your head down and cast your eyes to the left and right to see who's looking at you?
And really Santa, you must be very, very cold in your thin felt suit. Your black shoes are no protection from the winter snows and if you have a list written out to Mrs Claus, perhaps you should ask for a beard manicure.