This weekend see's the FA Cup Final back at the home of English Football for the first time in seven years. Evertonians more than most have seen the highs and lows of what Wembley has to offer. Who can forget the highs of 1966, 1984 and Waggy back in 1995. The lows from 1968, 1986 and 1989.

Send us in your memories of any of these Finals. The trips down with yer mates, any memories of the Final itself, the weekends away, the laughs and the tears, the photo's. If its relevant we want to hear about it.

Mail To Cup Final Memories

* QUEUING FOR THE TICKET, CLUTCHING MY PROGRAMME VOUCHERS, WITH A GENUINE No 1 (NOT ONE OF THE MANY DODGY ONES DOING THE ROUNDS)

2. AFTER HAVING THE DAY OFF SCHOOL TO GET THE TICKET, BLAGGING A NOTE OFF OUR MAM, THE TEACHER READING IT, ASKING IF MY STOMACH WAS OK NOW, AND IF I GOT MY TICKET ALL RIGHT.

3. ME AND THE MATES (GUINNESS (SADLY NO LONGER WITH US), TEZZIE, JOHNNO, ETC. (THE FUTURE "GARDENERS ARMS" BLUES)) TAKING A BALL WITH US, AND HAVING A GAME ON WEMBLEY CAR PARK WITH SOME WEDNESDAY SUPPORTERS THAT ENDED UP ABOUT 200 A SIDE (I NEVER DID GET ME BALL BACK)

4. ABSOLUTE DEVASTATION AT HALF TIME

5. ABSOLUTE JOY AT FULL TIME

6. WONDERING HOW ALEX DIDN'T GET A PENALTY AWARDED

7. HITTING LONDON AFTER THE GAME, AND ENDING UP ASLEEP IN EUSTON STATION

8. PANICKING IF THE COACH WOULD BE BACK IN TIME TO SEE THE LADS PARADING THE CUP

9. TELLING THE KIDS ABOUT IT EVER SINCE THEY WERE BORN

10. ALWAYS RELIVING THE DREAM COYB. FRANKIE D.

* I was aged 11 at the time and fortunately a season ticket holder with my dad. We both had tickets and even had one spare from the programme vouchers. I remember being picked up at 11.00 o’clock at night by my uncle in a yellow Ford Consul, the one with the gear change on the column and the front seats being able to take three people. We headed out from Heyworth Street, Everton towards the East Lancs Road where we were going to pick up a few of my uncles mates. I didn’t know at the time but we were going down in convoy with yet more mates, who had borrowed, I’m sure legitimately, their works van with Rentokil on the side.

Couldn’t sleep on the way down, far too exited. Don’t remember much of the journey down, just the yellow street lights after we’d got off the M6. Got into London at about 6.30am and ended up in a café near some.railway arches. I haven’t got a clue where it was, but it was a good cup of tea and a sausage and bacon butty. My uncle said he’d drive around London and show us the sites. The only place of note I remember was “The Palladium” and “ Madame Tussaurds”. Round about 11.00 we met up with another uncle who worked down in London as a policeman and we went back to his place. He was on duty at the time but told my dad and other uncle to meet him in a certain pub in half an hour. This they did and I was dropped off with my aunty( spoilsports). Eventually we set off for Wembley by way of Shepards Bush and the BBC Studios. We parked up at White City Tube Station and got the train to Wembley. I remember the band playing and abide with me being sung before the match. The noise was deafening. Couldn’t see much first half. Good job. I was moved further back near a big wall, and some bloke shouted “give him here, mate”. Next minute I was hoisted unceremoniously up into the air and right behind the wall. It was a cracking speck. My dad moved back, immediately below me and gave me the thumbs up. Now I could see the match. I remember all three goals as if it were yesterday, especially the third. God love you Shirley. You beauty! What a day out. Dad and uncles got blathered with their mates and we left London at 1.00 am in the morning. Again I was left with my aunty. I fell asleep soon after tea on their settee and feigned sleep so I could be carried to the car. Following day at Lime Street with my mum to see them step out of St Georges Hall with the cup. I remember the guy on the tannoy saying “ Announcement, announcement, “ then an almighty roar. Brilliant!!!! The only thing that’s come near it since was the Bayern Munich game at Goodison. What memories. Thanks again Shirley (and of course Mike Trebilcock). COYB! Steve Noonan (N.Wales)

The excitement was awesome, I had been to Wembley for the "Merseyside" final and the subsequent replay and was truly gutted but had a great feeling that we were gonna do it this time, my other visit was the 77 final against the Villans, from which I remember the game being stopped in the second half to look for a bandsman's contact lens, strange what you remember!! Great atmosphere in the ground and then the battle of the planes that took place and me thinking that this was a little unsafe in such a confined space, can anyone remember if we won that particular battle.

"Abide with Me", tears flowing as me Dad's Mum, Me Nan had died in April of this year and this was My Grandads favourite hymn, long gone but there in spirit I imagine as a true blue of the Dean era!! Whew!! Sharpy controlling and whackin the ball into the bottom corner and Andy Gray, what a guy, heading the ball out of the goalies hands looking for approval and then the celebration, we had won and I couldn't believe it.

I love being a Blue, no matter what we have to enjoy, suffer and endure, this is how I was born thanks to me Mum and Dad and theirs before them and for my boy? Well once a blue always a Blue, he is only 2 at the moment but knows his Blue from his red and how to score a GOAL, a future number 9 me hopes. Blue Forever, thanks for the memories Everton and long may it continue!!! Gary Parkins

* My abiding memories of the 1984 final are:

Only paying a fiver for a standing ticket. Elton John walking towards the Everton fans before the game applauding us and being greeted by ‘He’s bald, he’s bent, his arse is up for rent etc’. Then in floods singing Abide With Me. After the game & presentation, all the Everton fans running to the fences and the guy next to me crying his eyes out & screaming at about 10,000 fans infront of him to get down, I,ve waited 14 years for this and I can’t see anything’. Being carried along with my feet hardly touching the ground with the hoards leaving the ground and 1 Watford fan battling against the tide of blue & white trying to get to the end of the ground that we were leaving so he could walk home. Somebody got fed up with him & just smacked him. Trying to get into a pub on the night of the match – they all seemed to be shut around Euston station. Getting to the station for the train home on Sunday am and seeing loads of Blues strewn all round the station still pissed and asleep. HAPPY DAYS Dave Wild

* We stopped at Stanmore to get the train in as it was on Jubilee line and we had found a deli doing fantastic hot beef sandwiches when we went down for Milk Cup Final. Brilliant time driving down motorway ands seeing all car / coaches full of blue especially as we had done same earlier in year.

Got hot beef butty and then went to a pub for a drink. Standing outside the pub having a drink with load of Evertonians and a couple of police “keeping eye on the Scousers”. Cracking atmosphere. Jewish guy is walking past on opposite side of road with couple of little kids - probably been to the synagogue – one with dark hair who looked like his dad and one with a mop of ginger hair. They look over the road at us with a nervous smile

Evertonian behind shouts out “Hey mate – do you know the milkman is s******g your missus” – we all crack up, even police smiled, would probably arrest him nowadays. Great day – great team COYB Wallace Black – Llandudno blue

* I sat on our lucky chair for the entire day leading up to the '95 cup final, only leaving it to go and dance in our manc neighbours garden when Rideout nodded it in, this was short lived as I got rugby tackled by my Red sh*te Dad and ordered back inside. Happy Days. (John O)

* As I was only 12 in '95, I lived through the great years of the mid '80s without being able to remember anything before about 1990, so the 1995 cup final is the only silver wear I can remember (apart from the charity shield the following August!). After a stop in Brum the night before, my dad (his 1st cup final as well) and I, arrived at Wembley about midday. To this day I could swear it was a scorching hot day with clear blue skys, but I'm reliably informed it was overcast and quite cool. I was shocked by the price of the programme, £5!!!! I bet they wont be paying that this year! A packed lunch on the grass banks outside the turn-style waiting for it to open and as soon as it did we were pretty much first in.

Once inside another £5 was shelled out on a giant foam hand, dad getting a rosette. These little things are as clear as day but the game itself is a series of still images, replaced pretty much by subsequent repeated watching of the BBC coverage I have on tape. I can however remember screaming at Barry Horne to shoot when he got the ball near the half way line during the first couple of minutes, hamstring injury 1, Steve Bruce nil (still laugh every time I see it)! Graham Stuart is going to score.... Oh No! he hit the bar, but did it bounce in?... Who cares coz there is Paul Rideout to cause Blue and White chaos at the tunnel end!

Was it my imagination or did Big Dunc play keepy-uppies in the centre circle at half time?

Nev was a giant in the 2nd half, especially when it looked as if he had been lobbed, but stuck a massive hand in the air and the ball rolled down to his chest, the celebrations of that and some of his other saves were seemingly as big as goals. Im sure my ears rang for a week from all the shrill whistling during the last 5 minutes and how did Amokachi not score at the end with only 1 defender to beat!!! The final whistle went, a huge man with the biggest moustache I've ever seen (one half blue the other white) shook me by the hand and "ee aie adio we won the cup!"

As far as the lap of honour goes, I remember the team photo being taken just in front of us, but the rest is again swamped by BBC Grandstand. The way out involved a crush down the stairs and some tricky negotiation of the inch or so depth of piss that now covered the floor! Down Wembley Way in a sea of happy blue and the odd miserable Manc, I remember 3 blokes arms round each other to keep the leathered one in the middle from falling, when all of a sudden he stops dead, stands to attention and exclames, "Eh Lads... CHARITY SHIELD!!" to which all around sing "We shall not, We shall not be moved - till we've won the Charity Shield, We shall not be moved" Great day, Great memories, can't wait till next time... Lets hope we do better in Europe this time than we did off the back of that! (Matt, Sheffield)

* Got tickets off some brummy lads as I was working in Leicester at the time. The four of us were heading for a pub in Kingsbury (big one on a corner - usually full of blues) taught the brummies some songs, they were quick to learn as they hated the Mancs....... Got the tube with a crowd fully decked in Red. Full tube out sang by 1 toffee and 3 temporary bluenoses!! Got ejected from said tube by the Mancs a little before Kingsbury, think it was Willesden Green or somat. Eventually got to Wembley - enough said about the cracker of a result, well done "sniffer" Paul. Somehow ended up south of the river - southern beer must have been stronger then - managed eventually to get back to Leicester on Tuesday to find I no longer had a job!! ah well doesn't happen everyday. (Ian Gregory)

* Same as matt from sheffield I was only a nipper at the '95 cup final. 9 to be precise and here are my memories of it. I remember queing for ages down the old ticket office on Goodison Road to get the tickets. For weeks before I remember arguin with my older cousin over who was the youngest member of our family to go to Wembley. He was 11 when he first went in '84 but he said mine didnt count properly because he went on his own, he snuck out at 6 in the morning without telling his mam an dd, they soon found out when they woke up and his brother told them where he was.

On the way I remember a gang of fellas at the back of the coach teaching me all the songs with swear words in that my dad tried not to let me hear at Goodison because my mam would flip if she heared me repeating them. Then asking my dad why I couldnt have a coffee from the on board coffee machine and him replying "cos ya dont like coffee" Also on the coach seeing another blue coach and as we are waving to them noticing one of them was my cousin, giving it loads to any manc coaches we overtook and my cousin who was with us losing the £10 his mam n dad gave him to get a programme and something to eat while we were there.

On arrival at Wembley Car park we seperated from my cousin and another uncle because they were behind the goal and we were on the touchline not far from the halfway line. Me and my dad walked up and down wembley way making regular stops to look at the Twin Towers from various distances and angles and a cockney copper letting me sit on some wall and drop glass bottles down this dis-used well thing so I could hear em smash at the bottom (Great fun if your a 9 year old kid on your first trip to the capital) My best memory of the day, including the goal, was standing in Wembley Car Park and playing three and in footy with my dad using an empty plastic drink bottle (one of the little ones) as a ball and a big kerb as a goal. Doesnt sound much but one of the best father-son moments any kid could wish for.

From the match I mainly remember my disappointment at the big man not starting, constantly in fear of conceding and absolute mayhem when Rideout rose head and shoulders above to nod in with the simplest of ease a Graham Stuart rebound. We were absolutely delarious. Also Amo's dodgy run at the end when he should have made it two and duncans blue nose. We werent far from the steps neither so we could just see them pickin it up. The best part though, was the fact that sitting two rows behind us holding a nice piece of silverware of his own was none other than the great Dave Hickson. I remember my dad tellin me about him through the first half then making a point of finding him at half time to talk to him and he was absolutely amazing, a credit to our great club. I've met him a few times since and he's still every bit the gentleman.
Last thing from the match I remember was coincidentially being sat next to my two cousins who we knew had tickets but not next to us.

On the way home I just remember none stop singing, giving loads and even mooning manc coaches full of glum faces and arriving in our street at some unruly hour singing at the tops of our voices waking the neighbours and finding that my mum had added one vital piece to our window display of pics. Blue and White Crépe paper spelling 1-0 and a massive silver cardboard F.A Cup underneath it. Also remember on the open top coach seeing Amo in particular and he did the arm thing we used to do back at us when we all sang his name. (You remember the one, the sort of we are not worthy bowin your head with your arms fully stretched out in front of ya)

Anyway, sorry its long but I have great memories of all the before and after of the best day of my life, remember most of the game but my cup final DVD re-assures of the full inbetween. (Paul Howells)

* I remember the cup finial 95, I was in Manc land visiting a mate. I went there in my BLUE & WHITE shirt, met her in the pub across the road from her house. There I was with a gang of macn waiting for the game to start, Zoë my mate asked if I would take my shirt off or wear something over it. NO, was my answer! How I got out of there alive, I will never know. I'm not the quite girl, know all the EVERTON song & like to sing them. One of the best day of my life & funny enough the other best days of my life are thanks to EVERTON. (Bluenose Bimbo)

* This was a great day due to my twin brother being a Manure fan! We were both 15 watching the game from home and I have to say I still take the pis* every year since. I was sitting in my lounge with my Duncan Ferguson shirt on whilst my scummer brother was wearing some shite Mark Hughes top which ended up getting ripped when I jumped him when Rideout scored. Every time I see the goal I still have shivers running down my spine as it was a great performance from the whole team especially Big Nev. (Mark Richman)

* After the massive disappointment of queing up for 18hrs and not getting a ticket, me mate came up trumps on the Wednesday before, with a ticket on the front row over the tunnel where the players came out, boss view, immortalised on dvd when the teams walk out. Staggered up to the turnstile at about ten to three after polishing off the litre of voddy and orange to be confronted by a 40 odd year old fella in tears, ”Whats up mate” I asked, I cant f-in get in, the fella on the gate wont take a back hander. He replied. Right I’ll sort this, an old trick me dad used to do when I was a kid, I entered the turnstile with this fella crouched between me legs, and when the steward unlocked it, I shuffled him in, only to be confronted by a copper who just laughed, the fella was ecstatic, offering me all sorts of money, but I wasn’t arsed, I was just glad he was in to witness it.

Big Joe Parkinson was great, all over the place, a joy to watch. Stayed in London, somewhere in Chelsea and just partied all night, singin from boozer to boozer, getting congratulated by Chelsea heads every five minutes, bit of a contrast from the Friday night when one said he was just off to get his gun as we where having a sing song, bit scary. Still hard to shake the memory of the hangover Sunday on route to see us come back home with the cup, worth it though. If the fella I bunked in reads this, I hope you had a boss day aswell mate. (Gary Williams)

* I was 12 at the time and had been to every single game that year and of course without fail my dad had come up trumps with 4 tickets for the Cup Final for myself him his mate Paul and an old friend Ian who lived not far from Wembley. We drove down in the car and had our scarves hanging out the window, which didnt last long as my dad wanted a ciggy and of course my lucky scarf I'd had for years was flying down the motorway. We arrived at his mates house and headed for the train to take us to Wembley. On arriving and walking down Wembley Way it was the best thing ever, loads of mancs and Evertonians singing and giving each other a bit of banter which almost caused a fight between my dads mate Ian and some fat manc. When we got into the ground the atmosphere was electric an this was clearly going to be my best game ever. I remember having spent my winnings on a previous
scorer for the first goal scorer in the Cup Final which was Graham Stuart, and when the ball came across to him before he hit the bar I thought I was quids in but unfortunately I wasn't but I didnt care as Paul Rideout had put us infront.

The atmosphere doubled as we knew we could b on our way to winning the FA Cup . This truly was the best day of my life watching Everton and I'll never forget my first win at Wembley with hope of many more to come....(Mark Crabtree)

* Here's a nice one involving those horrible Mancs for a change! On our way to the 1985 final me and my mate Sean were walking along the North Circular Rd in our colours when two mancs stopped to offer us a lift, we got in and they said well done winning the league and the cup winners cup and all that, then we got talking about tickets, Sean had got his from Mick Mills,whose boys he taught at school, it was for the mancs end though, and as luck would have it one of the mancs had got his from another ex-pro Ian Bowyer,and it was for our end, so a nice little swap took place and everyone was happy. It was an ace day even though we lost that one. (Steve Hughes, Leeds)

* I’ll just say this: the ’68 FA Cup Final was the first to be broadcast on Portuguese television (I live in Oporto, Portugal). I don’t feel like reliving the agony of it all, capped by that goal from “God” (as I heard him being called a few years back at The Hawthorns where he was watching a game). At the time I knew very little of English football (I was 13) and I was a neutral at the start of the game. However, by the end I had become a fully-fledged Evertonian. I still am one, of course. And proud for it, too! (Alexandre)

* OK It we lost (1985) but it I remember it so well. My brother in law got us ticket from Alan Harper. We went down with his mate John Foster and Uncle Gordon on the Alan Harper family coach. I remember blue barm cakes, a borrowed leather jacket and feeling dead handsome on the coach amongst all the Harpers. I remember being snarled at by a coach load of mancs pulling into the coach park at Wembley and being a nipper I was very intimidated. We got the tube out to Harrow on the Hill and found a pub that was packed with Mancs. Uncle Gordon looked like David Bellamy with his beard and promptly sat on pub bench opposite a manc with the similar beard proclaiming “you look like me” The mancs were friendlies and we had the craec.

After that it was all a blur, just remember singing “Trio Triiiiio Rotterdam, Wembley and championship Toooo.” Till my throat felt like a camels jacksey, not that I have ever had the pleasure of a camels jacksey but you get the picture. AHH Happy days. (Dean Martin “nil satis”)