WHO have I become?

That's the question I asked myself as I sauntered up Byres Road to Beyonce's favourite Glasgow restaurant on a Tuesday night.

I never saw myself as a West End-type, I've always preferred to live in places that are a bit rough around the edges.

But it turns out I love staying in the west of Glasgow, with its well-spoken, residents, and quirky eateries, like Beyonce's Hanoi Bike Shop, Cottiers and The Chip.

I'm so West End I hardly recognise myself. To be fair, I don't actually live in the really annoying bit of the West End.

I'm far enough away from Byres Road that I don't have to deal with the students, and I'm not among the posh folk of Hyndland.

Still, I'm definitely not east anymore.

Growing up in the Torry area of Aberdeen, I'm used to dealing with characters.

It's the sort of place where you'll never get a quiet bus journey.

So when I moved to Glasgow four and a half years ago, living in Shawlands came as a bit of a shock.

It seems that to live there you have to be in a couple, wear matching Barbour jackets, Hunter wellies and own a French bulldog or pug.

It was alright but it lacked the character I'd heard Glasgow had.

So off I moved to the edge of the City Centre, near to the Barras.

Well, that was different. As I've said before, one of best things I've ever seen in my life I spotted within a few weeks of living there: a dog wearing a football strip outside a pub. Only in Glasgow.

Throughout my time in the city people have always urged me to live west.

"It's like nowhere else," they said. But I protested. Although I cover the West End patch for the Evening Times (which I love, obviously), I always thought there's no way I could live there.

How could anywhere in the west ever compare to the Trongate at 11.30pm on a Saturday night?

It doesn't compare...but I do absolutely love the West End.

I was pleased to find that there are still a few questionable situations in Dumbarton Road at all times of the day.

You're never quite sure what you're getting in Partick.

The downside is the bars are really strict in the West End.

On a Saturday night in a Dowanhill pub recently, I was enjoying a wine when a barman threatened to take it away because it was bang on drinking-up time.

I argued that it was ridiculous and would not move until I finished it - much to the embarrassment of my West End pals.

What can I say? You can take me out the East End...