‘My da, I say, is the famous Wullie Collins. He's the Robin Hood of Scotland. He takes from the rich and gives money to the poor. My da’s a bank robber.’
I’m five and a half years old, attending the Saint Roche primary school in Glasgow. The teacher, Miss O’Donnell, has asked us each to stand, walk to the front of the class and tell the others what our fathers do.
My da’s a railway worker, says one and sits down.
My da makes ships, says another.
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