Sitting on an anonymous street running from Trongate to the Clyde, the Scotia’s antiquated black-and-white exterior has slogans promising ‘pool and beer upstairs’ – so don’t drop in here expecting 21st-century sophistication. However, there’s more to this place than meets the eye: once a watering hole for workers on the river, and later the next-door neighbour of a music hall (built 1862, burned down 1961), it has remained largely unchanged since the 1920s – expect low ceilings, wood panelling, leather banquettes and photographs of old Glasgow. With regular live gigs, friendly staff and bargain bar food (mince and tatties, baked crowdie cheese, Big Yin burgers etc), plus a couple of real ales and a single malt whisky of the month, The Scotia has become something of an enduring haunt for writers and musicians. Airs and graces, no; authentic, yes.