Ahead of the 60th anniversary, readers have been sending BBC Your Voice their memories of England’s dramatic victory against West Germany at Wembley Stadium in 1966 when they won the World Cup.

Kenneth Farrington, now 76, watched from the stands as a 16-year-old and shares his account of the excitement of the final on 30 July 1966.

It was my workmate, Syd Manning, who obtained the ticket for me and arranged the transport.

When he initially asked me, I was reluctant because I thought I’d see more of the match by watching it on TV, but thankfully he was insistent saying “you may never get the chance again to attend a World Cup Final”, and how right he was.

Family occasions apart, it remains the greatest, most memorable day of my life.

The cost of the ticket – in the standing area behind the goal where, as it turned out, Geoff Hurst would score his third goal and complete his hat-trick – was 25 shillings – just over a quarter of my weekly wage as a transport clerk.

I didn’t bother with breakfast as Syd told me that he would be calling early. The journey down to Wembley took more than four hours.

When we parked up, I recall Wembley being besieged by ticket touts who were looking to sell.

Apparently, the fans of the more fancied teams at the time like Brazil, Hungary and Portugal had bought blocks of tickets that also included the final, so when their teams failed to make it, they sold their tickets on.

Therefore, if you wanted to turn up on the day and attend the final, it was entirely possible providing you had the money. It was harder to get tickets to the FA Cup Final that year than to the World Cup Final.

My first sight of the Wembley pitch actually took my breath away because the grass was green.

I’d been so used to viewing cup finals on our black and white TV, I fully expected the grass to be the same colour.

The match itself was enthralling – no way could it be described as a tactical battle. It was two teams attempting to win a football game.

Going into extra time was a bonus as far as I was concerned, because I was getting extra value from the outlay for my ticket.

The Geoff Hurst hat-trick goal was a great finale to a splendid occasion. And if the ball had burst the back of the net – it nearly did – I’d have caught it.

Outside the stadium, I felt like I was walking on air. My team, in the country where I was born and had never left up to that point, had won the World Cup.

An elderly England fan, probably close to the age I am now, 76, was serenading a group of supporters by singing, “Geoff Hurst scores for all the goals, hallelujah!”

I recall seeing the passion and enthusiasm in his eyes and hoping that I would always retain the same love for the game of football, thankfully I have. It probably inspired my 32-year career as a referee, officiating in over 2,500 matches.

We faced a long journey home so it was straight back in the car and there was much chatter about what we had witnessed.

When I arrived home to our small terraced house in the early hours of Sunday morning, I was so keen to share my story of the day with my mother Margaret that I left my key in the front door.

My dad had sadly died in 1960 at the age of 37, so I couldn’t share my story with him, much as I would have loved to. But my mother thankfully showed an interest despite not being a fan of the game – she could sense how much it meant to me.

In 1969, I moved to Huddersfield, West Yorkshire to marry the girl of my dreams, Susan, so I lost touch with Syd.

But if he is still with us, I’d like to thank him from the bottom of my heart for providing me with a fantastic memory that will remain with me for the rest of my days.

Kenneth’s story was told to BBC journalist Kris Bramwell.