As you will know by now, we recently saw the 60th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas, Texas on November 22, 1963, and I know where I was.

I had just returned home from my weekly altar boy training at St John's Catholic Church in Stevenston where I had laughed at a funny incident.

In those days a priest often wore his hat, called a biretta, when he came on to the altar to conduct the Mass service, spoken completely in Latin.

My pal, Eddie, came off the altar and asked Father Redden; "Will I go back for your bunnet, Father?"

"Bunnet? Bunnet!" he spluttered, "I'll give you bunnet if you call it that again."

Yes, folks, I was an altar boy, also known as an acolyte, and had the job of pouring the red wine into the chalice. I guess that's where I got my love of the vino tinto, although, as far as I can recall I never sampled it as an 11 year old...well, not much anyway.

I remember having to say Amen and Dominus Vobiscum (the Lord be with you) so many times that it inspired me to gain an O Level in Latin at school. Indeed to this day, six decades later, I am occasionally overheard to say, "mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa" as in "it's my fault, it's all my fault" when I've not closed the freezer door properly.

The Catholic Church hoped that altar boys would graduate into priesthood - and remain virgins - but my dizzying heights of altar server was to ring the bell three times for "Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus" (Holy, Holy, Holy).

I also got to swing the chasuble to dispense incense around the chapel. Although I have never had a bunnet, I seem to have displaced my halo somewhere. If you find one, let me know.

The day that JFK was killed, I had also finished my paper round in the Stevenston housing scheme, delivering both the Evening Times and The Citizen. That more than covered my Friday night fish supper, which cost about 10p from the mobile chippy van.

(Incidentally, my aversion to dogs arose from being chased by big beasts that roamed the streets in the 60s.  To think of it, the slippery pavements must have been caked in poo back then.)

Having opened the door, marked nostalgia, I have checked out 1963 and, wow, what a year that was for historical landmarks.

The Conservatives were in big trouble (deja vu) and Harold Macmillan, who is misquoted as saying "we've never had it so good", resigned, to be replaced by Scottish aristocrat Alec Douglas-Home. Labour leader Hugh Gaitskell died at 56 to be replaced by Harold Wilson who is correctly quoted as stating that "a week is a long time in politics."

Musically, it was my formative year, as The Beatles emerged with three number one hits - From Me To You, She Loves You and I Want To Hold Your Hand. A youthful Cliff Richard was singing and starring in Summer Holiday (yes, madam, with The Shadows).

French leader Charles de Gaulle knew what he was doing when he vetoed Britain from joining the European Economic Community, forerunner to the European Union. If only we'd listened.

In fact, de Gaulle might have said "plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose", as tens of thousands of protesters took the streets against nuclear weapons.

This year is also the 60th anniversary of the opening of the Linwood car factory, which produced the loveable Hillman Imp while Ford launched the Ford Anglia at a new factory at Halewood on Merseyside.

My 'News' colleague, Calum Corral, wouldn't forgive me if I didn't mention the start of Dr Who, with William Hartnell as the Doctor, dodging The Daleks.  

I could mention Martin Luther King and The Great Train Robbery (no, madam, he didn't do it) in the passing and the opening of the first ever betting shop in the UK.  If only they hadn't spread to Largs.

I certainly won't be betting on what will happen next year, never mind 60 years from now.

----------------------------------

Thought for the Week: Too many people live too much in the past. The past must be a springboard, not a sofa. (Harold Macmillan)

-----------------------------------

If, by the time this column appears, the traffic jams and floods on the A78 near Largs marina have been removed it will largely be due to the efforts of local builder, Archie Burleigh.

I saw a letter that he wrote to Transport Scotland and roads agency, Amey, dated November 20. At that time Archie pointed out that despite traffic lights and the trunk road having been flooded for three weeks, there was no sign of a repair. There were constant hold-ups on the busy route in and out of Largs.

When officials informed him that there was a partial collapse of the culvert which crossed from the golf course to Bowen Craig football fields, roads campaigner Archie offered a detailed proposition that a "geotextile" (a big industrial bag, to you and me) had got stuck in the culvert trench.

Amey officer Nick Russell - whom you'll be pleased to know signed as "he, him and his" - said they would bring in a specialist contractor to remove the bag.

This is not the first time that big Archie has flexed his muscles with the roads authorities.