A WEEK or two ago accompanied by my independent colleagues, Lynne Quinn and Tommy McVey, I visited the drydocks at Govan.

Three docks situated in an area of dereliction. Graving docks they are called. Used in recent years as film sets. Now being brought back to life by New City Vision with managing director Peter Breslin, an Inverclyde man, at the helm.

Big plans indeed, housing-led. One of the docks for ship repairing. One as a tourist draw with a tall ship as the centre of attraction. Another dock to be filled with residential House Boats. Built and fitted out locally. A derelict Pump House to bring back to life in some form as well.

The 1933 steamship, Queen Mary, lies at the quayside being refurbished. A multi-million-pound project will bring this old lady into the world of awesomeness. The artist’s impressions depict an old worldish grandeur. We watch the drone fly-through impressions of what each deck will offer and what an addition this ship will be in years to come on the Clyde and in the waters off our West Coast.

We climb the gang plank on to the ship and down step ladders between decks. What a task they are undertaking onboard. As we are being guided around, we can’t help but think that work of this kind should be happening in Inverclyde. Peter Breslin thinks so too. It’s time it was!

On Saturday night I was invited to the local RAF Cadet Squadron Dining In night. It was held in the hall of the Lyle Kirk. All very formal. Black ties. Best dresses. Uniforms and medals and a big list of etiquettes to abide by. Port decanters that should not touch the table as they’re passed along. The port was delicious, in a Ribena sort of way.

The principle remains the same. There were awards and promotions. Speeches, and talk of aeroplanes and helicopters and gliders.

But the most impressive thing of all? The cadets. Our young people. Disciplined, smiling, manners impeccable. Once again, my admiration for their officers knows no bounds. They give up their free time and turn our youths into some of the finest young men and women imaginable. We offer them our thanks. It doesn’t seem enough!

On Friday it had been the Innerkip Society AGM and annual dinner. Their 226th. It all started on a cold January night in 1798 in the village now known as Inverkip. A kind of benevolent society formed by seven men where fines were imparted for rule breaking misdemeanours.

Throughout our dinner in the Tontine, for the most trivial offences, fines were dished out. It was a pound if you supported the Morton, two pounds if you haven’t seen them this season, and three pounds if Rangers or Celtic were your team! Important stuff like that!

We heard of the annuities the society had given out this year. The comfort payments. How the Society had made a difference to the lives of so many locally. Every penny remaining in Inverclyde. All under the radar. An institution of the highest order indeed!

We had speeches and song. There wasn’t a Ribena in sight!