Stripping down to my pants in the car park behind Teuchters Bar & Bunker may seem strange, but it’s actually the most professional behaviour of my career. If I was to review the cosiness of three pubs in the Haymarket area, then I must understand the purest form of cold imaginable. There in the moonlight, goosepimples standing to attention on the cavernous husk I call my torso, I experienced the kind of disdainful chill usually found in the souls of serial killers and politicians. I was method. I was the Robert De Niro of local drinks journalism.  

I replaced my garments and wandered into Teuchters to bask in its radiation system. Alongside the mahogany panelling and lively atmosphere of this William Street haunt was a heat that made me feel like an archetypal hobo satisfied by his newly lit bin fire. The beer selection won’t inspire an epic poem, but Teuchters’ hipster bothy stylings were warming even without the seismic gas bill racked up by the owners. Soul-thaw rating: 7/10 (approximately the warmth of a reluctant primary-school teacher). 

Back outside, strip off, five-minute freeze-time, clothes on. To The Green Room next, a Parisian-style haunt with a wine menu that’ll make you scream, ‘HOW MUCH??!!’. Continental where Teuchters is tourist-baitingly Scottish, and quiet where Teuchters was brimming with life, it nonetheless offered the kind of amiable service that felt like a tender hug. Its cocktails (I opted for a rum, lime and ginger beer) had the balance and flair of a liquified Vaslav Nijinsky. I’ll be back, Green Room, as soon as my nips are less frigid. Soul-thaw rating: 9/10 (approximately the warmth of an affectionate beagle).

Back out, strip off, duel with the elements, scream ‘I’M ROBERT DE NIRO’ at the moon as rum and ginger beer and lime careens from my mouth. Land in Ryrie’s Bar, an Edinburgh institution for anyone with a thirst before a stumble into Haymarket Station. Ignore the imposing train timetable on the widescreen telly and you’ll find an auld guy’s pub that’d make Jack and Victor chant a wee tune. Not quite cosy, but cosy-ish. Soul-thaw rating: 5/10 (approximately the warmth of a misunderstood 15-year-old boy who secretly cries to boygenius songs).