Flashback: Glasgow, July 2010.

Among all the other advertisements and pamphlets’ in the tourist information center on George Square in Glasgow, this one stuck out in the section of “dining and drinking”’ by claiming to represent the oldest pub in town, “ The Scotia” on 112 Stockwell St.
I was in the information center to look for information about a visit to “Celtic Park” and how to get there. It was Catriona who found it and picked it up, maybe she was looking for venues for Scottish folk music, or just good and fun bars to visit in the evening. If she showed it to me immediately as she found it I cannot recall. I was too occupied to get one of my dreams to come true; to visit Celtic Park in Glasgow’s east ends, and I guess Catriona by another dream; to go shopping in the fancy streets in the busy city center.It was still quite early in the morning, and the weather had decided to show it self from one of its better sides -speaking of Scotland- than the day before when we had arrived by bus from Edinburgh. That day it had been raining cats and dogs from a heavy clouded low grey sky, which seemed to rest on just on the roofs of the buildings.
This day with its blue sky was different and invited to a day out. I got on the suggested bus from just around the corner and soon I found my self on my way to fulfilling a dream
This is not the story though, so that has to wait.
Meeting up again after these actions of the day, the rest was set out o be let to the unknown. And here the pamphlet with the “The Scotia Bar” came to play kind of a main role.
What is a holiday without experiencing the local establishments, and go for the ones far out of the well-beaten tracks.
The adventure of Glasgow pubs started at “Sloans” on Argyle Street. And now it starts to be a bit curious, as also the establishment claim to be the oldest in the town. It is a nice establishment, hidden away in a passage from Argyle Street, and has an outdoor beer garden area, two more floors over the bar, where the upper floor is a fantastic ballroom form the late 18 hundred. We went up the amazing staircase to have wee look inside, and what a great location.
Next stop was down at the river Clyde to locate “The Scotia Bar” on Stockwell Street.


It was easy found, but just across the street another establishment drew a bit more attention at first -“The Clutha”- as they had an outdoor serving area, just at the right spot to catch the last sunbeams of the day.
Scottish pubs have a certain atmosphere. They are always busy. You always meet all kinds of people and if you are open and curious, you can for certain be sure that you will end up having a good chat with the people sitting around there.
As we entered, there was a little handful of guests dotted around in the room, one at the bar and some others around in the corners on the benches.
At the bar is always a good place to start, if you can find a spot. This time of the evening it was not a problem, as only one guy was sitting there, so we joined him a the high stools. Not even a half pint later, we were in a conversation with him and the young man behind the bar. ”Was the Scotia Bar really the oldest in town, and was it in fact haunted, as it had said in the brochure from the Tourist Centre?
Both the young man behind the bar and the guest at the bar shrugged.
“Maybe it is. There is some who claims to have seen something, but you should go to “Sloan’s” on Argyle Street; they are for sure haunted”!
And then the conversation was on tracks, and got more and more personal. Names and occupation got exchanged and more beer ordered. Suddenly we got company by two ladies -working colleagues on the loose. I bet they had started enjoying life just after work, as they were in “a good mood” as they arrived. One of them found my Scandinavian accent “admirable”, why; I really cannot say, and sometimes I had to get Catriona to translate the heavy Glaswegian accent of hers, so I could continue the conversation.
The evening ended up like this; one of the two working colleagues on the loose, grabbed a guitar from behind the bar and started singing, and what a voice she had. She could easily have been someone famous from TV, which apparently also an older gentleman from one of the corners meant, as he was constantly mumbling something out aloud to no one in particular, as he was sitting on his own.
My translator (Catriona) assured me that he had appreciated the singing, and that he had meant the singer should be on TV singing, and not here for a few people in a bar.
The other lady started an argument with another older gentlemen; about what I really have no idea, but he left and she was still wound up, so the other guest at the bar tried to calm her down, abut soon she was arguing with him, so he also withdrew back to the stool at the bar next to me.
Cheers! So all in all, that was a good night at the –maybe- oldest pub in Glasgow.