I'M no homebird but I'm happy at home, home being my own small walls and my own small community.

I love my area of the city: its proximity to parks, its proximity to the city centre, its hipsters, its artists, its 57 (or so) varieties of people, its wastegrounds and history.

I love Govanhill's curry houses and quirky cafes. I don't mind the groups of people standing out on the street in the evenings. I jog past the fly tipping with a tut and a call to environmental services.

I love Tramway, the art and cultural venue on the corner with its hidden gardens and home for Scottish Ballet. I love the Gurdwara, gold tipped and regularly setting off fireworks that bring me outdoors in my pyjamas for a dark sky swatch, though that's a little over the border, speaking strictly.

I adore the old Edwardian bathhouse, kept open by fierce love from determined campaigners who fought Glasgow City Council plans to close it and won. It may not be returned yet to its glory days as a swimming pool but it bustles constantly with theatre, art, parties, political debate, craft, music - all in the ceramic surrounds of the main swimming pool.

Once I saw the ghost of King Hamlet pace the upstairs seating gallery, another I danced underneath a disco ball, yet another I had my tea.

We have more than 50 languages and roughly as many nationalities. It makes for what must be the most diverse area of Scotland, a claim with its good and with its bad.

Its good means colour and vibrancy, exotic foods and musical chatter. Its good means creativity and diversity.

Its bad means tension. It means overcrowding and unscrupulous landlords, substandard housing conditions and crime enough to warrant its own dedicated police operation. There's a committed, multi-agency task force trying to eradicate the problems that stop our wee suburb from being as wonderful as it should be.

Some neighbours are concerned enough to have organised a march through the community this weekend. How odd to be so happy somewhere others are marching in outrage.

It is an area with community spirit, I can say that for Govanhill. And maybe the motivation to keep Govanhill Baths open, against all odds, is the same as that which makes people furious with despair at the state of the back courts - community spirit.

Govanhill Baths celebrates its 100th anniversary this week as the protesters lace their marching shoes in preparation. I respect the desire to make things better.

So, good luck to both groups, albeit one grudging and one wholehearted.