THERE is a certain persistent quality about Govan. Determination is in the air of the place, and the Govan Fair is an annual reminder of Govan insisting on being Govan.

I have been inveigled into making it happen this year. This is giving me a fresh insight into the Govan I knew as a child; for then it was only a short yellow tram trip from Craigton and where, on Saturday mornings, I had to trauchle around the shops with my mother as she got the ''messages''. But Govan has changed.

Go walk-about and the old Govan is still there in the old streets and in the confident architecture, which have taken such a hammering from those who should have known better. Some surgery on that unsuccessful heart transplant - the red brick hovel that passes for a shopping centre - would be an appropriate contribution from Glasgow's year of architecture to rectify damage done and to jolly up all future Govan fairs.

No doubt energised by Govan Old Parish Church and the ancient stones within it, the adjacent Pearce Institute is the operational headquarters for the Govan Fair. Fablevision Theatre is based there and the whip is cracked by Liz Gardner. Energy abounds and the place is fair dribbling with enthusiasm in constructing indescribable objects for the Big Fair Parade, which would not be out of place in Barcelona.

My contribution has introduced me to the Vikings in Kvaerner Govan Shipyard. Vikings have been around Govan for a long time. The chief Vikings are a hard-headed bunch, but they allowed the use of the shipyard and two non-Viking men for a couple of days. The brevity has not been negative, for the assigned welder, fabricator, and myself have constructed (a roll on the drums here) a 2-DAY sculpture! Maybe this is the dynamism the Vikings like - and maybe they'll let us do it again - maybe.

It was good to be back in a great engineering shop, where stainless steel can be folded like the corners of a book, sheared like paper, and wafted everywhere by overhead cranes. In odd moments, John Brown, my assigned welder (no relation to the firm down the river), briefly philosophised on the Futurists and the Bauhaus. The Kvaerner workshops are staffed entirely by sculptors, and they make massive objects which, when welded together, become the ultimate sculpture - a ship. Anthony Caro, conceptualists, and paint-a-brick merchants, eat your heart out.

The name of our 2-DAY sculpture will be The Launch, and the detail requires a bottle. With a ''nae bother'' attitude, the Pipework Department produced an Oldenburg-style champagne bottle. The main label reads Pipework Village . . . Produced in Govan, and another reads CM, for Champagne Magnum - a coincidence, for the boss's name is Charlie Mitchell. Two more signatures, ''Wilf'' and ''Simmy'', on the bottom of the bottle were concealed when it was welded to the base-plate - so you'll just have to think of it as a time capsule, chaps.

Happily, the many art critics on Kvaerner's staff wholeheartedly approve of this sculpture. Does anyone else matter?

The Launch is shaped like an elongated bow of a ship with a bottle on stand-by on the base plate. It is 5.5m high and made from stainless steel. The city parks department has been helpful, and it is likely to be sited in Elder Park - another Govan gem. It will be positioned at the edge of the pond and the cranes of the shipyard will be in the background. It will support the notion that Govan is good at building ships - even if the Vikings have to clatter us with the hammer of Thor.

But here's the rub: somehow the half-tonne 2-DAY sculpture has to be in the Big Parade. Conceptual art must now take over. Fablevision's inveiglers are working hard figuring out how to do this, so watch out if you've got a low-loader. If you want to see how they handle this impossibility, wear a hard-hat and get along to the Govan Fair parade tomorrow at 7pm.