1966 and all that

Just arrived in Dundee ahead of my first football match of the season.

Today's big match is Dundee United v. Dunfermline in the Betfred Cup (otherwise known as the Scottish League Cup).

It's on TV so I could have saved myself an 800-mile round trip but it wouldn't have been the same.

For example, had I stayed at home I would have missed having supper in Anstruther, the Fife fishing village just down the coast from St Andrews.

What could be better than fish and chips followed by a twin cone with strawberry and chocolate ice cream washed down with a can of ginger beer whilst overlooking the harbour?

This morning I even got up early and had a short bracing walk on the Tay road bridge (from where I took the photo above).

I grew up in a house that overlooked the Tay. You can't see it but it's just beyond the rail bridge.

When my family moved there in 1969 they had just closed the railway station on our side of the river.

Until then people living in Fife but working in Dundee would cross the river by train or by ferry. When the road bridge opened everyone went by car or bus instead.

In 1970, when I was eleven, my parents bought me a racing bike. We picked it up in a shop in Dundee but it was still a bit big for me. Once in the saddle my toes were struggling to touch the ground.

Despite that they waved me off and I cycled home across the mile-long bridge, not daring to stop peddling in case I slowed and fell off.

Looking back it seems remarkable that a child - not yet a teenager - was allowed to cycle across the bridge alongside cars and lorries. The dual lanes are quite narrow even for smaller vehicles but we thought nothing of it.

Today cyclists are restricted to the central walkway which in those days was reserved for pedestrians only.

Anyway, had I stayed at home I would have also missed the marathon series of programmes broadcast by the BBC yesterday to mark the 50th anniversary of England's sole World Cup win.

Given our record since 1966 it seemed like overkill, especially the live stage show broadcast on Radio 2, Five Live, and screened in selected cinemas nationwide.

Would Germany celebrate like this? Italy? Brazil?

Of course not but they've won multiple times. When you've only won the damn thing once it assumes greater significance, I suppose.

Faced with an eight-hour car journey I quite enjoyed it, although I'd be interested to know what the listening figures were in Scotland.

It certainly made me feel a little nostalgic although my own memories of the '66 World Cup can be counted on one hand.

In fact the only thing I remember about the earlier rounds was listening to the roar of the crowd on our little black and white television set after I'd gone to bed.

Likewise the only thing I remember about the final is the moment West Germany equalised at the end of 90 minutes.

My father (who was never a big football fan) jumped up, turned the TV off, and went out into the garden.

He eventually came in and switched it on again but we'd missed extra time and, if I remember, the presentation of the trophy.

The curious thing is I have lots of memories like that from my childhood – some of them involving my parents or relatives – but whenever I mention them to my mother or aunt or whoever they either have no recollection of the incident or deny it ever happened.

It's maddening but it explains the expression, "alone with your memories".

The nice thing about the BBC's rather overblown coverage of England's World Cup win is that people were able to share their memories without being told they'd imagined the whole thing.

It's time however to give the whole thing a rest. No more mentions of 1966 until 2066, I beg you!