I meet Robbie in the Old Toll Bar, just south of the river — a part of Glasgow that I’m ashamed to say I rarely visit, since it’s on the outer edges of the West End studenty bubble I’m usually floating around in. It’s the kind of place that guide books would call a “hidden gem” — an unassuming exterior, but through the doors you’re greeted with wood panelling dating back to the nineteenth century, artfully strung fairy lights and a dozen or so — safely distanced — tables bearing wax-encrusted candlesticks. It’s Robbie’s local, and before lockdown he’d often drop in at the weekend with his fiddle to play a set or two with his flatmates who are also musicians. Since measures were relaxed and the bar re-opened, he’s still down there regularly — just for a pint until the live-music ban is lifted — but the atmosphere is distinctly different and the night we meet, a Tuesday, only one other table is occupied.
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