happy days: I get my hands on the Scottish Cup at a local social club.
I was adopted as a baby but it never bothered me and I never tried to find out who my real parents were. I never had the urge. I still don't.
The truth is, I had a happy childhood and was brought up by a wonderful lady, Mary Burns, in a council house in Peat Road, in Glasgow, with my four brothers James, Ed, Archie and Tommy and sisters Mammie, Anna and Jenny. Sadly, only Ed is still living. We still talk on the phone.
My mum died when I was 12. She was a character and, being the baby of the family, she spoiled me to death. But her word was law.
I never really wanted for anything and I lived with my brothers when she passed away.
Where we lived you either played football or you were in a gang. There wasn't much else to do, apart from watch my heroes at Rangers.
There were rough areas either side of us and you had to be a bit street-wise. I remember going into a chip shop and there were iron bars, with just enough space to pass a bottle of Irn Bru through. It was like Dodge City at times, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.