Graham Taylor put a lot of noses out of joint in his first few weeks at Vicarage Road, mine included.

He was a man very protective of his availability and initially I had less access to him than any of his predecessors since Bill McGarry, who would state: “Your day is Thursday” to the Watford Observer representative and Tuesday to the man from the West Herts Post.

Graham seemed a trifle arrogant on first meeting up with him. In fact he was assertive and confident, which caused him to seem opinionated. The warm, relaxed and friendly relationship that was to mark the majority of the next 40 years, was to come later.

I was denied access to his direct office number, which was a first for me. But I was given his home number only to be used in extreme emergency. It was fair enough. As he said: “This club has been run for the convenience of everybody.”.

There were little signs. Molly Rush, the tea lady had an Alsation, which she used to bring to work every day. Sabre was well-known to everybody and a part-time attendee at the ground, known as Sailor, would take him for walks and call in on the like of Pat Molly and Dave Butler.

He was a lovely dog, soft as putty.

One afternoon I emerged from Graham’s temporary office at the end of corridor at the end of the Main Stand extension. Subsequently it would become the players’ bar and later the weights room.

At the other end of the corridor, Sailor came in, holding the door open for Sabre. Graham took one look and called down firmly: “Don’t bring that dog in here.”

Sailor promptly assured Graham that Sabre was good and harmless.

“I don’t care. Never bring that dog or any dog into the dressing room area, at any time," he said.

I noted the exchange mentally. Clearly the new man had a new broom in his hand but I was more interested in what he had told me over the previous 30 minutes.

He had outlined exactly what the team was planning on doing in their League Cup replay that evening.

When people ask 'when did you start to believe?' I would cite that afternoon during which Sabre received a red card.

I had never been taken into a manager’s tactical confidence to such a degree before a match.

Of course I did not envisage the journey we would make, but there was something about the efficiency of his planned tactics that impressed me.

Watford had been drawn against Reading in the two-leg first round and had won at home 2-1 and then lost the second leg 0-1 at Elm Park.

In those days the chairmen tossed a coin for choice of replay venue and Elton John won the toss.

The two closely-fought games suggested it would be another tight exchange but in the 10 days from the first leg, Taylor had begun to forge the team pattern and those who were to implement it.

A few hours after explaining to me how he was to play the game, Watford romped to a 5-0 success over Reading. Goals by Bobby Downes, a Sam Ellis penalty, Ross Jenkins, Keith Mercer and Keith Pritchett underlined the fact that a change was on its way.

Fans chanted Graham’s name at the end of the game and officials tried to persuade him to go out and take a bow.

“You won’t catch me out there until we win something,” he retorted. He then went into the dressing-room and instructed the players to report back for training the following afternoon.

They duly reported, in the pouring rain, and were taken through sundry repetitive drills to iron out the slack marking Graham had noted the players perpetrating at throw-ins during the match.

“We have to play better than that,” he said after the 5-0 victory. “Particularly in certain aspects of our play.”

Watford had won their opening League game at Stockport, lost a little harshly at home to York City and then embarked on to record 10 victories in their next 11 games, including League Cup progress at his old club Grimsby.

That run culminated in a victory over Brentford and their future rivals over the next five years, John Toshack’s Swansea City.

They also claimed top spot in the division and subsequently led the table until clinching the Championship at his home-town, Scunthorpe, in early April, six games from the end of the season.

Some 7,000 souls had witnessed the 5-0 success over Reading on August 27. On October 8, there were tangible signs that belief was taking root: the Hornets boasted their first five-figure attendance for over three years.

Watford’s gates were never to dip below five figures for the next 11 and a half years.

Even more significant was the surprise appointment Graham made that month: Bertie Mee as assistant manager. The former Arsenal double-winning boss was given a five-year deal.

Bertie took over the organising of scouting. Hitherto Graham had returned from training at five in the evening and had then dealt with letters and scouting reports before organising scouting.

Now this was in very capable hands. By the end of the season, Mee had watched 150 professional games for Watford, concentrating on potential Division 2 players, and some 60 youth games.

The professional shopping list had been whittled down with Graham from 120 potential players to 38.

Mee was able to report that the quality and standard of local youth players, who had been caught in the vastly increased Watford scouting network, was 100 per cent improved by the end of that Championship-winning Division 4 campaign.