In truth, we were all really happy the English had won. We just didn’t realise they would never stop talking about it

England led but the Germans snatched an equaliser in the last seconds. Then in extra-time Geoff Hurst crashed the ball off the bar and down on to the goal line: the referee awarded a contentious goal to England but it became academic when, with only seconds remaining, Hurst ran clear again and sent the third of his hat-trick past a static German goalkeeper. Dad was jumping up and down with delight. In truth, we were all really happy that the English had won. We just didn’t realise they would never stop talking about it.

In August we had a visit from Uncle Jud and family, nine of us piling into his wee van and scooting off on trips to St Andrews, Broughty Ferry, Arbroath and Carnoustie.

Sleeping standing up

The weather was quite kind to us, with a reasonable amount of warm sunshine, so we inevitably all got sunburnt and spent a few uncomfortable nights trying to sleep standing up.

Mum smothered our bright red skins in Calamine lotion and it helped but didn’t entirely spare us from the agonies of touching things.

It wasn’t helped by us kids having to sleep three and two to a bed, Paul and me in with Joe, Maria and little Maureen in my bed.

Just after they returned to Leeds for the rest of their break, our school holidays came to an end and we went back to a now familiar Lawside Academy, me into second year and Joe into fifth.

His “O Grade” results had arrived in the brown envelope just a few days before and he’d done very well so he’d be sitting a handful of Highers at the end of this academic year.

At registration on the very first day my own class was greeted by a new teacher, a young man in his early twenties, well-built, sporty and with a great big smile on his face. He introduced himself as the new PE teacher Mr Chaplain.

None of us had any idea at that moment how very important this man was going to be to us.

“Jimmy” Chaplain was one of a new breed of teachers who had learned that it was mutually beneficial to teacher and pupil alike to strike up a positive relationship.

For the teacher, this was quite revolutionary, as it meant getting to know the pupils not only personally but with knowledge of their backgrounds, families, hobbies and future aspirations.

For us in 2A Boys, Jimmy broke the mould of the distant, aloof masters who avoided personal relationships and believed that wasn’t part of the job.

Mr Chaplain became much more than a register teacher. He was there at every turn, helping us to avoid trouble with good, sound advice and kicking our behinds when they needed kicking. We all thought he was wonderful.

But the first great event of my second year didn’t happen at school.

Big opening

No, it took place down by the river when the Tay Road Bridge was opened on August 18 by the Queen Mother.

Hers was the first car to cross the mile-and-a-half long bridge from the very centre of Dundee at Shore Terrace to the coast of Fife between Newport and Tayport.

Thousands followed her car across, taking advantage of the toll holiday that only lasted four days before the princely sum of 2/6d was required each way to get you over the water.

The opening of the beautiful white bridge was another sign of the massive progress Dundee was making and many motorists went out of their way simply to have the thrill of driving over the mighty River Tay.

Sadly, the arrival of the bridge heralded the departure of the “Fifies” that had transported cars, lorries, cyclists and foot passengers across to Fife and back for the previous 50 years. The very last crossing took place the day the bridge was opened and that was the last I ever saw of those brilliant vessels.

I knew I would remember my fun on board during the many crossings I’d made with Mum and Dad before the diesel-driven ferries retired to the island of Malta.

They were badly missed by many of the townspeople of Dundee.

Back in the football world, there was a major sensation when wee Dundee United competed in the Inter Cities Fairs Cup tournament, their first time in a European competition.

Astonishingly, they were paired with Spanish giants Barcelona in the second round, after a bye in the first.

What a shock travelled around Europe when United not only beat them 2-1 in the cauldron of the Nou Camp but repeated the dose with a thumping 2-0 victory back at Tannadice Park in Dundee. The city’s name was even further enhanced.

They crashed out to Juventus in the very next round but nobody would remember that defeat, only the glory of two wonderful victories over Barcelona.

And so the town and the country in general continued on a bit of a high and there was a lot of optimism in the press and pubs.

Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction within the family as well, with cousin Tony and cousin Wee Mary both getting married. There was a genuine sense of happiness about the place.

Of course, there was still the war in Vietnam but we weren’t involved in that so it did little to dampen the nation’s spirits.

But dour Mum said something bad was bound to happen… and it did.

On the morning of October 21, after weeks of heavy rain, a slipping spoil tip above the mining village of Aberfan in Wales suddenly engulfed part of the town, including the local school.

A total of 144 people died in that awful catastrophe, 116 of them children. This tragic accident pulled us all up sharp. How was it possible? How could so many innocent children go off to school and never come home? Tears were shed for these poor souls all over the country and people flocked to churches to offer prayers. That’s the bit that got to me. You see, I’d spent the previous seven years believing firmly in a loving God, whose son Jesus Christ so loved us that he sacrificed himself on a cross to bring us to eternal salvation. His love for us was supposed to be limitless. So what was Aberfan all about? If he loved those kids so much, how could he let them be buried alive beneath a coal tip? I thought about this a lot and I wasn’t the only one. Teachers at Lawside tried to give us an explanation we could understand but I remained unconvinced by what they said and I just couldn’t square that tragedy in Wales with a definition of God as kind and loving.

By Christmas of 1966, I had given up any intention of becoming a priest.