In January 1989 I left the security of the family home and a job on Dundee’s evening institution “The Tully” to start a new job in Aberdeen.

Before then my experience of the Granite City had been limited to watching United gub our New Firm rivals at Pittodrie before dodging missiles on the way home as our bus windows were invariably bricked by the notorious Aberdeen casuals.

My working time in Aberdeen was short lived. After six months, my union went on strike and we were on the picket line for the next year. I never set foot in the office again.

I learned two lessons from my 18 months in the city. First: it was cold. Proper cold. You really appreciate the benefits of thermal drawers and a snorkel parka on a picket line when the icy North Sea gales whip along the Lang Stracht.

The second is that boom town Aberdeen had a gallus swagger about it as a by-product of the oil riches flowing in.

Union Street was buzzing. The bars and restaurants were busy every night. Aberdeen was living the highlife with the trappings of wealth on the back of black gold.

I gawped in wonder that so many Aberdeen lads were cutting about in Porches, Ferraris and Sierra Cosworths – motors........

© The Courier