SO I am ascending the stairs of one of Glasgow's oldest and finest buildings beside an army officer whose red-jacketed dress uniform includes silver spurs.

He gives me some splendid advice which sadly I will probably never need to use: "If you've had a few drinks, remember to take your spurs off before undressing, otherwise you'll get in a terrible fankle."

My own sartorial outing this evening is white tie evening dress - the one with the tails. When I wear a normal dinner jacket I can, erroneously, feel like James Bond after the second gin-and-tonic. In tails, and with a regular Glasgow body shape, I merely feel like The Penguin from Batman. My comedic appearance is not helped by the champagne being served in a coupe, the broad glass which people try to claim was modelled on the breast of Marie Antoinette. Such wide glasses are difficult to put back on the tray when empty and I manage to send a number crashing to the floor.

The occasion for my champagne-swilling penguin impersonation is the annual dinner of The Trades House of Glasgow last week to choose the new Deacon Convener, who is also known as the third citizen of Glasgow. It is held in the Trades Hall in Glassford Street, one of those elegant Glasgow buildings that you trudge past without realising the beauty behind its doors. That's the problem with buildings that open straight on to the pavement - you don't have the space to stand back and admire them properly.

It was designed by Robert Adam, Scotland's renowned architect, in the 1790s, which makes it one of the oldest buildings in Glasgow still being used for its original purpose. It is rich with wood panelling, ancient portraits, chandeliers and stained-glass windows.

This may sound like a posh strata of Glasgow which has nothing to do with the city's ordinary citizens but, being Glasgow, it is never that simple.

A brief history lesson. Back in the 17th century Glasgow was only the fifth largest city in Scotland, with a population of about 6,000 in 1605. There were the merchants and then there were the craftsmen who organised themselves to uphold standards, oversee apprenticeships, look after their sick and aged members and basically protect their prices and standing: an early closed shop much copied by trade unions until recently.

The coopers, for example, all those centuries ago in Glasgow, would send round their best workmen to judge barrel-making and would not allow any shoddy goods to go out. The coopers who joined the craft had to pay a penny a week to support the poor. Sounds like a benign protection racket.

It worked, however, and ensured that goods from Glasgow reached a high standard and so business grew, and Glasgow grew with it, until it became the second city of the Empire.

Now there are 14 crafts remaining which make up The Trades House, including hammermen, fleshers, maltmen and bonnetmakers. You might think there are not that many bonnetmakers in Glasgow these days, so what's the point? An excuse to swill champagne? Not quite.

As the working side of the crafts declined, the charitable side grew. Now The Trades House and the 14 trades dispense about £600,000 a year in charity donations as well as organising craft awards and helping apprentices. For example, Qasim Mehmood of Knightswood Secondary won a craft award for a beautiful garden wind-powered ornament.

So the members of the trades are not actually banging out whisky barrels during the day. Many of them are solicitors and accountants who have an old family connection with the trades that they like to continue.

I get chatting to Keith Brown from the coopers, who is actually a stockbroker from Essex, and one of the few English members of the Glasgow Trades House. The coopers in London started their own school which a relative of Keith's was involved in running, and from there he got involved.

As we get chatting we find a common interest: racehorses. I lose money on them, and Keith owns them. You need to have a bob or two to own racehorses, but Keith is not the stereotypical Essex lad. He does not bang on about his wealth but instead enthusiastically tells me how The Trades House recently helped an apprentice cooper, who worked for a company that went bust, to find another firm to complete his training. A young man who would otherwise have gone on the dole had his career saved.

Helping individuals is what drives people like Keith do more than simply sit at home, write a cheque for charity, and think his involvement ends when he posts it. The charities helped are often local to Glasgow, and often the kind that rarely make headlines. A youth group in Craigend is given £2,000 for new equipment, an outreach project in Maryhill gets £3,000 towards a minibus and playground equipment is bought for children with severe disabilities.

So, once a year, the members indulge themselves with a formal dinner at The Trades House to choose their new Deacon Convener who, this year, is retired Episcopalian bishop Idris Jones who not only has to direct the fundraising but also ensure the Trades Hall itself remains a landmark building. You've no idea the cost of just cleaning a stained-glass window.

What what may seem quaint and old-fashioned on the surface is beneath it all a relevant business assisting individuals in Glasgow on the margins of society who really do need help. If only they could also teach me how to put a champagne coup on a tray without creating carnage then their dinner would be just perfect.