Canna believe it’s about 70 years since my dad – a lifelong Dons supporter – sometimes took me to Pittodrie.

I’ve no memory of the matches. I wonder if Little Mo actually saw onything ava, surrounded by towering adults. We went again when I was a teenager and fair scunnert by the sight of mannies wie their backs to me tiddling against a fence.

On to my student days when, to mark AFC being in a Scottish Cup semi-final, I covered masellie with beautiful red-and-white rosettes made by mum, a replica cup on my back courtesy of dad. However, while I was rattlin’ ma tin at the Torcher, young footballs fans stripped me of the lot, including the cup. Dad was fumin’.

Spookily appropriately, the Gothenberg triumph happened on my quine’s sixth birthday; spooky because the Dons would go on to shape her adult life. As a teenager she........

© The Press & Journal