IT’S funny what you see while standing on a wall in Port Glasgow for 45 minutes on a Sunday morning, writes Jeremy Burrows.

I was watching the meticulous operation to return the newly-restored replica steamer Comet to Port Glasgow town centre.

Nearby the faithful were arriving for Mass at St John’s Church; some of them in style -- by stretch limo.

The limo came and went several times -- a service provided free every week, I discovered, by the funeral parlour along the road to help get local pensioners to the church.

Some Comet photographers and video camera people were in front of the church when one of the limo passengers – a sprightly old gent – got out and posed for the ‘paparazzi.’

This all helped to pass the time as the Comet was lifted off a truck and put back in its place in the town square without a hitch. A reasonable crowd gathered, out of civic pride or perhaps so they could say they were there the day a Comet was spotted over the Port.

As the ship was gingerly coming down to earth, I wondered if there might be spontaneous clapping or cheering. I felt like fireworks would almost have been appropriate. Instead we had respectful but proud silence.

I wanted to stay until all the bits of the boat were back in place and, while I was waiting, a somewhat dour-faced lady asked me where the dignitaries getting their photographs taken were and I replied that the event was refreshingly dignitary-free.

One source of her dourness quickly became apparent as she revealed that her friend, who had a view of the route the Comet took from Ferguson Shipbuilders, was supposed to tell her when the vessel went by so she could come and get photos. The friend had let her down and she had missed the boat.

By this time, the pensioners were coming back out to the limo and looked a lot happier than my new friend.

Bizarrely, I was to come across someone else who missed the boat, in much more spectacular fashion. This was a young man, with his daughter, who had raced the 60 miles from Perthshire to watch the Comet lift. A friend of his had told him the shift was taking place at noon -- when in fact it had happened around 11.

Workers were by now on the finishing touches and I hoped the time was nearing when I could get a photo of the Comet back home in one piece. Then they all got off the boat and left a ladder propped on board, ruining the image. Fortunately one of the yard staff came over and said I could go on board and hide the ladder. So I unexpectedly got to climb aboard and get a Comet’s-eye view of the Port as well.