Back in 1983, in common with a few hundred Watford fans, I went to Kaiserslautern (in what was then known as West Germany); Sofia, in Bulgaria and Prague in what was then Czechoslovakia.

It is strange to think how many countries have changed their names or joined together or separated in Europe since 1984. Then again, I am so old, I can recall when maps listed a country to the East of Greece as Jugoslavia, with a J.

Also I remember Graham Taylor phoning me, as pre-arranged, with his observations when he heard the UEFA Cup draw: Watford would play Prague. I was overjoyed. I spent just over 48 hours there in 1984 but vowed to go back. We are off there, via Budapest and Vienna and by the time this is published we will be in the latter.

That fact did serve as a reminder of those heady days when we travelled through Europe; attended an Embassy reception with Elton John and company in Prague. I recall walking back to the coach with him and asking if that was typical of Embassy receptions as it was my first.

“The last Embassy I went to was in Harrow late on a Sunday afternoon,” he chirped back.

They were good memories, but did we think that was likely when, in the third division (third tier) Watford took a break and travelled to Sochaux in France? I thought then it was one of those distractions Graham had in mind, because the Hornets had to beat Hull City at Vicarage Road in the last game of the season to attain promotion to Division Two.

Perhaps he thought it would be a morale-binding operation. If he did, it worked because Hull, who had beaten the Hornets soundly earlier in the season, 4-0, were thrashed by the same scoreline that May night in 1979 at Vicarage Road.

Nice memories, but after the 0-0 draw out in Sochaux, Graham said he thought the exercise was valuable, because it gave Watford’s players a taste of playing in Europe.

What was he talking about? Imagine Watford playing in Europe. Even then it was beyond comprehension but in the words of that old song it was obviously a case for Graham of I know where I’m going.

Mind you, he did say we would play Sochaux again, back at Vicarage Road but we cannot complain: we had better opposition.

  • Looking through the lists of transfers after the deadline passed, I was surprised how little Watford have paid under the Pozzos. It compares amazingly well, particularly when you see the excesses of the Premier League.

I was surprised, however, to note Manchester United’s average net spend under the Glaziers and Sir Fergie was £105m over seven years. That is an average of £15m per year, and while the £80m recouped from the Ronaldo sale helped reduce the net figure, that is hardly spending consistent with one of the richest clubs in the world.

Moyes’ and Van Gaal’s indulgences have taken that net figure to an average of £37m per annum for nine years.

  • Following my piece on Beppe’s departure with his old-school disciplinarian concepts, I received a few emails, including this one from a Watford-based former doyen of the Northeast.

He wrote: “Arrivederci Beppe! He may have shouted a tad too loudly but his team was, to his great credit, second in the Championship, albeit after only four matches.”

Not many people actually know that because of his animated “technical area” performances, Beppe was short listed for this year’s Strictly Come Dancing series.

The Italian cut a diminutively sexy figure on the touchline. The tightly cut drainpipe trousers, arms folded high on his chest, head up and disporting an authentic pugilistic Mussolini profile, was thought to be the campest candidate they had ever seen: an important pre-qualifying credential for the show.

Perhaps it was the early-season two sendings off that ruined his chances.

His predecessor, Gianfranco Zola, notwithstanding his popularity, never got that far despite his paso doble flair.

It had been much trailed in the Watford Observer whose Deputy Sports Editor, Frank Smith, was even accused of being an “Agent Provocateur” for publicising certain team members’ active dislike of him.

“He shouts!” bleated the overpaid prima donnas. “He doesn’t play us when we should be in the team” said others.

Did he go, or was he pushed? It matters not.

He is no more. He is an ex-Hornets manager, or to be precise, ex-head coach.

However, my correspondent believes Watford missed a trick. He adds: “With all due respect to Graham Greene, the identity of the potential new coach – the real “Third Man” – flew off the pages of yesterday’s “Times” sports section. Almost a centerfold: Step forward RICHIE McLOUGHLIN. WHO? I hear you say.

Ritchie’s credentials are impeccable. The headline ran ‘A one-man band who turned a hobby into an obsession’.

Founder, chairman, treasurer, groundsman, coach, manager and former club secretary of .......................... JARROW ROOFING. A former Army boxer, he stands no cheek from anyone. He admits to “Having a bit of a temper” and he pays all the bills.

His wife Jan (no temper) serves up chilli and chips and makes the tea. No information about who sews her sequins on? Oh, and she washes and irons the team strips.

HOWAY THE ROOFERS! – Let’s hear it for RITCHIE. Doyon of the first division of the Ebac Northern League.

Barring the language barrier, there should have been a place for you in our hearts at Vicarage Road bonny lad. Sound as a pound! is ‘wor’ Ritchie.”

He added that if Oscar’s middle name is Miguel, his initials would be OMG Watford’s recent managerial merry-go-round clearly affects fans in different ways.

This comment piece was first published in Friday's Watford Observer.