Govan

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My day in Govan was largely spent being barked at by small ferocious dogs. Had they not been restrained by their owners, they would have sunk their teeth into my leg. There are a lot of small dogs in Govan, all straining at the leash to eat people and straining their bowels to poo on pavements.
There are also quite a few folk in Govan who smoke and drink too much. The telltale sign is a voice that has a distinct Dalekish quality about it, a gravelly gargle that would be more at home on BBC TV's Doctor Who.
Dogs and Daleks aside, Govan is in fact a very important place. It is renowned the world over for its string vests. I jest. Very few people wear string vests in Govan. Indeed, that is one of Govan's problems: very few people do anything! Unemployment has eaten the heart out of the town. Can I call it a town? It's really just a part of Glasgow these days, but once it was its own place with its own people and shops and church and shipyard. It was once so important that the Vikings raided it, and it would have been something of more substance than a string vest that attracted them.
Govan Old Parish Church is... emm... old. It goes way back to the very beginnings of Christianity - the site, that is, not the current building. And today, inside that old church, they have one of the most important collections of ancient carved stones in the world. But don't tell anyone that I told you. It'll be our little secret.