This is a mad street I live in.
Post-pub shouting and singing, yelling and screaming through the evening, kids running up and down all day.
It feels like their only power, the only way to convince themselves they exist, is to make as much noise as they can.
Know the feeling, kids.
But then I remember going to visit a pal last year in Penilee, a pleasant wee suburb on the south side.
Neat council houses, trim little gardens, mature trees, wide pavements.
Sitting in the back garden with a can of beer, peace and quiet, lazy summer’s evening, this is the life.
Got dropped off on Victoria Road later that night and the place was bouncing.
People on the streets, talking or in groups, on their way to the pub or the off sales.
Fruit shops still open, crates on the pavement, the colours from the street lights and the traffic lights, the smell from the takeaway joints and the restaurants, the pizza place and the chicken shop.
The laughter, the chatter, the way everyone was moving.
The toddlers in the back court will be inside the bins again tomorrow.
But tonight, cheers Govanhill.