I was at the final play off, but let me start the next morning.

I woke up with the mother and father of all hangovers. I couldn't believe the foul taste in my mouth and I've never drunk whisky mac since that night in Aberdeen. As I tried to get my bearings - not too difficult, because I was in my own bed - I vaguely remember a couple of the Carlton branch lads getting me home in a taxi and me creeping into the house to avoid waking my parents in the middle of the night. I got up, got washed, put the kettle on then realised there was nobody else in.

Oh my God, the reason there was nobody in was because we were all on holiday in Montrose

I had won a few quid on the horses the day before and decided on the spur of the moment to get the train to Aberdeen for the final.

Great game, great performance and back to the pub to pack in as much drink as possible before getting the train back to Montrose.

These days were 10 o'clock closing, but I don't think anyone told the good people of Aberdeen. I got completely rat arsed and some of the Carlton branch lads got me on their bus back home. They had no idea I was supposed to be heading back to Montrose

Needless to say, my parents were at panic stations, but they were staying in my uncles house while he was abroad and I had no idea what the phone number was. I managed to get the police to get in touch and explain that all was well.

Two things about that: firstly, I can't imagine the police doing that today and secondly, how did we all survive without mobile phones?

Postscript: I hadn't collected my horsey winnings, so I took a chance and sent the receipt to the bookie in Montrose and the gentleman sent me a cheque by return of post

GGTTH