52 years ago

[57vintage]

Past glories, but at least some of us born between 1947 and 1964 had some respite from our education at fee-paying schools, the world-beating multi-media offer of two terrestrial TV channels (if the aerial was pointing in the right direction) and Shoot, the caviare and foie gràs canapé lunches on the lawn, and watching the interest pile up in our trust funds courtesy of pater’s overtime driving a tanker for 18 guineas a week. The days of wine and roses.

That respite from the splendour of our council house pied à terre, and its lush tattie plot estate, was a trip to Hampden in my Uncle Bill’s Cortina, the Bentley being used by the chauffeur to pick up the messages from the Co-opy, to watch the Dons beat the green filth 3-1 in the Cup. My second final, my first trophy, Apollo 13 in the sky, but sadly no more Beatles, who’d split the day before.

“Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive, but to be young was very heaven”, Wordsworth once wrote after giving the Barrow Utility a hiding in the company of the Workington Service Crew after a tousy tangle at Holker Street.

Then there was the 70-71 season to come.

[EdmontonDandy]

Going to a school in Aberdeen that was full of Celtic fans, the Monday after the game was a joyous day when I was finally able to give it a huge GIRFUY to most of my classmates. The 1970-71 team was a joy to behold and, in my opinion, would have given the Fergie version a run for their money.

[57vintage]

Going to a school in Aberdeen that was full of Celtic fans, the Monday after the game was a joyous day when I was finally able to give it a huge GIRFUY to most of my classmates. The 1970-71 team was a joy to behold and, in my opinion, would have given the Fergie version a run for their money.

All of that. Especially the 71 team.

On ice.

With a big jube-jube on the top.

I never saw a Celtic scarf in Keith until they won the European Cup in 1967. I used to tell them, “I see your team mair often than you do”. Then they gave me a hiding. **** them.