‘You’re not too old to do this. Age is a just a number,’ I bellowed into the toilet mirror before attaching clothes pegs to my forehead in an ill-advised facelift attempt. Soon, I conceded defeat to the ageing contours of my balding, bearded appearance and left the bathroom of The Record Factory to continue my review of studenty bars in the West End of Glasgow. Who knows, maybe I could pass for a fresher in the right light. 

‘How do you do, fellow 20-year-old?’ I asked the barman as I ordered my Blue Moon. He handed me the drink and avoided eye contact, presumably intimidated by my incredible youth. Yet the décor, harsh lighting and limited drink selection of this establishment made me feel geriatric, as though I had wandered into a cheap and cheerless student union. On the plus side, the beer garden was perfect for a late Sunday, with ideal lighting to self-administer Botox before the next bar. 

My freshly botulinumed swagger drew me to Rum Bongo, a Hawaiian-themed haunt replete with student offers and more fake palm trees than a Lost Lockdown Reunion Special. Behind the bar, a flatscreen TV looped various surfing videos, incongruously interspersed with footage of 1950s pin-up girl Bettie Page. Despite these lithe surfers making a mockery of my flabby ageing frame, I enjoyed my time at this chintzy hangout which exuded warmth and kind-heartedness. And, alongside table football and darts, it played host to an arcade cabinet loaded with 90s classics. ‘Remember the 90s? I do!’ I shouted to no one in particular. And, dutifully, no one answered. 

And then there was Vodka Wodka on Ashton Lane, and lo I was in true student country, where alcohol slushies were cheap and shots were plentiful. With a Belter Colada in hand, I prepared to hang with the youth. But it was getting after 8pm, I was a tired man in his 30s, and this was a bar for people on a mission to pass out. With that, I decided to leave Vodka Wodka, unable to recommend its punchable name or its ‘get wasted or get out’ atmosphere.