IT WAS another humdrum day in the Civil Service, circa the mid-1970s, and 18-year-old Sandy Macnair was pleased to be introduced to a new colleague. The job – “sticking postcodes on maps for the census” is all he can recall of it – was extremely tedious and if this was going to be his lot until retirement then he was glad of the assistance, companionship and distraction of someone of like mind, interested in the things that really mattered – beer, music, girls and football.
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