Jenna Burns’ dad could take four hours to fulfil what for anyone else would be a 10-minute task. That was because the concept of time, being on time or telling the time, was a matter for other people to worry about.

Being late. It is something of a Burns family trait. Dad was the king – two hours was his record for missing the start of a press conference – but Tommy’s sons Michael and Jonathan plus other daughter Emma are not known for their punctuality, either.

“We all have his humour and nature,” Jenna says of their father, the Celtic legend. “He loved music, we all have that, he was cheeky in the best possible way; he could get away with things nobody else could, and I’ve been told I have a bit of that about me. Whether that is a good thing or not I don’t know.”

That Burns Snr, proud son of the Calton in Glasgow and family man, died too soon is the grimmest of ironies.

May 15 this year was the 10th anniversary of the death of a man who was more than a footballer to the wider Scottish game.

Tommy Burns was famous for many reasons and he was loved by all; no autograph or picture was refused, a gentle joke or putdown was never far away; team-mates, players and opponents all adored him.

“Dad for me was dad,” said Jenna, only 23 when Tommy passed away. “He wasn’t a superstar. That’s why people felt they knew him. He would get the odd heckle but I can’t recall anything bad happening when we were on the street. I don’t think he was overly-awed by being a footballer for all he loved Celtic.”

Burns’ life is the subject of an hour-long documentary made by purpleTV for BBC Alba and available on BBC iPlayer from Friday. Margot McCuaig, writer, producer and director, has done a wonderful job.

Last week at the GFT, friends, family and fans packed the Glasgow cinema to watch a piece of film which stirred emotions those present might not have known they had.

“It was all a bit odd,” said Jenna. “I didn’t know what to expect if I’m honest. I don’t know if I could find a word to describe my emotions. It put me through the wringer, I’ll tell you that. There were parts where you really laughed, even at the stories I’ve heard 100 times.

“I felt as if a lot of the stuff I spoke about with Margo was stuff I had buried, such as about the time my dad got ill, was diagnosed with terminal cancer and then when he died. As much as I speak and think about him every day, these are things I really need to . . . it takes a lot to go there again.

“I did get upset myself but it was far more awful watching my sister get upset. Don’t get me wrong, we can sit and cry together regularly, but to see it on the screen and hear about that experience from everyone’s point of view, as much as you know it, it’s not an easy thing.

“At one point Tosh [McKinlay] got upset and Danny [McGrain] as well and I felt for them more than I feel for myself. I feel everyone was very open.

“The film captured his personality perfectly. It did catch his funny side, there was something uplifting about it as well. It was a good balance because it is a sad story, he was too young, he should still be here. There is no getting away from that.”

The day Tommy was told that he had only months to live was the day his first grandchild Cole was born.

It was February 1, 2008. As coach at Celtic, with the first team and as a mentor to the young players, there was so much more to do.

And daughter Emma had just made him a grandpa.

“He had been diagnosed with melanoma a few years before, and there was a lot of going backwards and forwards for a time because he had to go back into hospital to get lymph modes removed,” Jenna recalls. “I didn’t once panic at the word melanoma. There were no alarm bells at all, which shows how ignorant I was of it. I didn’t think it was too serious. He did get back to good health.

“Dad went back to the hospital in November 2007 because he had pains in his stomach. The day Cole was born was the day he got told the cancer was in his stomach and liver and that it was terminal.

“Cole was born in the early hours and mum told me that I had to go up for afternoon visiting, and that she and dad had something to do. Something wasn’t right. When Emma was pregnant, she couldn’t get away from dad. He would rub her tummy and speak to the baby. He couldn’t wait for Cole to be born.

“I saw Emma and the baby, but no mum and dad which was really strange, and I think I made up something like dad was at training. I just knew I hadn’t to tell Emma something was up.

“When I got in from work, I wasn’t taking no for an answer. Dad was out and mum told me the cancer was back and it was terminal. Again, it didn’t register. Mum said there was nothing they could do and, I remember this really clearly, I was standing in the bathroom having a panic attack. I was hyperventilating, I couldn’t catch a breath.

“That night we all went up to the hospital to see Emma and dad was in some state. Cole was born in Wishaw General and after visiting, all of us went to somewhere in Bothwell for dinner. Dad ordered his steak rare and he would always have it well done – I know, who eats steak well done? – but that was all to do with his blood count.

“When I think back now I feel so sorry for him. He would sit at the computer trying to find something, anything, and sending emails to people in America who he’d read had been cured. You didn’t know if the stories were real or not. It was sheer desperation.”

Tommy was a devout Catholic and, as Jenna said, if anyone was going to experience a miracle then surely it was him. He went downhill quickly.

His death came hours after Rangers played in the Uefa Cup final. A supporters’ bus coming back from Manchester made a detour to Celtic Park to pay their respects.

The funeral was more state event than family affair. Jenna admits she was in a bubble and much of it passed her by. Thousands lined the streets of Glasgow to watch the procession.

The-then Rangers management team of Walter Smith and Ally McCoist carried the coffin, a sight which would not have gone down well with those still living in the dark ages.

“There was a lot of chat at the time about Walter and Ally carrying the coffin being a lovely gesture, as if that was something we purposely thought of,” said Jenna. “I couldn’t care less, especially then, which team anyone supported.

“They were his pals, his work colleagues with Scotland who became great friends of his. You could not get more of a Rangers man than Ally or a bigger Celtic man than dad, but Ally is carrying the coffin for his pal. They loved each other. Nothing else matters.”

Tommy Burns had a temper. He could fall out with anyone but within hours be their best pal again. He also couldn’t change a lightbulb or fill a kettle. It’s all in the film.

Jenna found it hard to watch the scene in which her dad, then Celtic manager, is being interviewed knowing that his time at his beloved club is coming to an end. It’s almost as if she feels protective of him even now.

So, what does it mean to be Tommy Burns’s daughter?

“You won’t meet a prouder person on the planet than me. He’s part of me and I am part of him forever. All four of us feel that. I know how lucky I am. I wish my dad were here but I loved being his daughter when he was with us. I just wish everyone could have known him the way I did.”

Tommy Burns described himself as the supporter who got lucky. All who knew the great man were the lucky ones.

Tommy Burns will be available on BBC iPlayer from Friday.