Our 50th ground and, theoretically, half way at 46 current grounds. 

I booked the tickets over the phone and guess what music played while I was 'holding'.  Go on, guess.  I'll tell you later. 

Watford as a town was not what we anticipated but our expectations had been set by comparison with Luton.  Watford is a surprisingly pleasant place.  It has quite a long High Street with what I believe is one of the country's oldest covered shopping malls behind it, the Harlequin Centre.  The High Street was no great shakes, with travel agencies, cheap shops, umpteen McDonalds, etc. but it did have a selection of reasonable looking pubs, bars and restaurants, albeit mostly the franchise ones we see in many a town.  By the way, what's all the fuss about tapas?   Is it Spanish for "two mouthfuls of peasant food"?  Mind you, if Mr Buttall and Mr Smith can go down a whole street of fine restaurants and book a table at Nandos (aka Oporto Fried Chicken), I suppose there's no accounting for taste.  Some of the pubs looked a bit rough, not helped by a sizeable police and bouncer presence, possibly due to the reputation of the visiting fans.

By the way, I left the previous typo in because I thought it was quite twee, and possibly appropriate.

For once we got our timing right and made a good lunch choice, the Aussie themed Walkabout.  We'd never been in one of these before.  The beer selection was, of course, poor although I'm developing a taste for draft Stella and this went down well.  The food was good quality pub fare; if it is typical of the franchise, then it is recommended.  Service was excellent.  A good start to the day.

The Harlequin Centre was a really good shopping mall: very clean, not too crowded, with some excellent shopping.  More good news; I escaped M&S without using my credit card.  Bizarre coincidence: I've just looked up from my train set and we're just passing the Harlequin Centre.  What's the chances of that, John?

And, joy of joys, a fantastic market, one of those places you can buy anything.  Janet added to her famed collection of strangely shaped dustpan and brush sets that seem to draw her like a magnet.  I contented myself with a pristine vinyl copy of Tell Me When by the Applejacks for 50p.  One of Birmingham's great tradition of ground breaking pop groups.

I left the previous typo in too - it was a genuine mistake, honest, but I thought it would send Mr Manning into 0rg@sm so I left it in.  For the avoidance of doubt, it should have said "train seat".

We walked to the ground.  That's another thing I like - town centre grounds. 

Vicarage Road is a neat and tidy ground tucked away behind housing.  The main stand is the now dated looking Rous Stand, with that distinctive roof of successive convex concrete panels.  Is convex the right word?  I always get convex and concave mixed up.  Is panels the right word?  Doesn't sound right for concrete, but then slabs doesn't seem right either.  There's a couple of posers for the Hyde Grammar School boys. 

The two ends are the most recently developed and, for a change, we chose to be in the end, the Rookery Stand, which transpired to be where the Watford vocal support congregate.  The remaining side is incongruous with the rest of the ground.  It is a ramshackle affair, consisting of four distinct and roughly equally sized sections:  two old looking stands of different design, joined together, then a section of uncovered seating, and finally an unused section that looked like a raised temporary terrace that would collapse if ten people stood on it.  I couldn't really quite make out what it was.  Overall, it was quite a respectable ground.  The Rookery Stand had limited catering: one bar and one refreshments section for the whole stand.  And, on a day as cold as this, hot liquid refreshment needed to be on tap.  The Rookery Stand sits somewhat above the surrounding area so the winds fairly whistled through.  It is also one of those irritating stands where the crowd keep standing up every time the action gets close to the goal area.

Come on, what was the music that played while I was holding on the telephone?

Watford should have won the game by a country mile.  Come to think of it, how is a country mile different from a normal mile?  Is it the same but you just end up with more sh1t on your wellies?  They dominated the first half, could have had four but bad luck, bad finishing and  great goalkeeping by Neil Alexander kept them at bay.   Their play throughout the game was fast and frenetic.  It seems their game plan is to fill the side with very quick players, release the ball as soon as you get it, and belt the ball forward as quickly as possible.  There was a bit more to it than that but the ball fairly fizzed around.  Cardiff, by comparison, were slow and methodical, and seemed to have no ambition other than to get a nil-nil.  Jerome ploughed a lone furrow up front, living in hope that the ball might somehow find its way to him.  On the few occasions it did, there was no other Cardiff player in sight.  Half time came goalless after a lively but largely skill free 45 minutes.

Half time and the rest of the report is for Mr Griffiths.

The second half continued much as the first, although Watford's chances were fewer.

Up to this point, we had favoured Watford but then an astonishing incident made us change allegiances (cos we're fickle).  Ineffective Caerdydd forward, Steve Thompson, chased an aimless through ball towards the corner flag.  Across came Watford keeper Ben Foster to shepherd the ball out of play.  It was one of those situations when it becomes clear that the ball is not going fast enough and the forward realises this and makes a dash around the keeper to try and keep the ball in.  Not this time,  sonny.  Foster launched himself at Thompson with a forearm smash to the face that Mick McManus would have been proud of.  Not surprisingly, Thompson reacts and squares up to Foster, chest to chest.  It should have been a straight red for Foster.  The result?   A booking for Thompson and a free kick for Foster.  All of this with the linesman a yard 91.6 cms away and with nothing obstructing the ref's view.  It was unbelievable.  Not so much as a "Dim Punchio" to Foster.  I've since checked loads of reports on the game and everyone seems to have missed it.  Maybe we were simply in such a place in the ground that it was clear to us but no-one else.  The Watford Observer reports:  "Steve Thompson was perhaps lucky to stay on the pitch after squaring up to Ben Foster when there appeared to be absolutely no provocation".  What?  I think I'll write to him to express my sympathy.  He'll feel much better I'm sure.  As for the ref, he had a very good game apart from this.

Finally, after a period of stalemate, big Malky Mackay stayed up after a long throw and, when the ball came across from Bouazza, he buried a header at the far post.  1-0 after 69 minutes.  Caerdydd had failed to deal with Mackay at set pieces all afternoon so it was fitting that he got the goal.

Caerdydd came out of their shell a bit but it was still a surprise when they equalised on 78 minutes.  Watford centre back, Jay deMerit, firstly gave the ball away needlessly to Koumas, and then stood trying to play the offside trap as the ball was crossed to the onrushing Jeff Whitley, who finished smartly into the bottom corner from 15 yards  13.74 metres.

After this, a draw seemed inevitable as the stuffing seemed to be knocked out of the Hornets and Caerdydd had no cutting edge.  But then, with two minutes to go, the ponderous Riccardo Scimeca picked up the ball for Cardiff, just inside his own half.  He then did what he only appeared capable of in these positions; he turned and passed back to his keeper.  This must have been the 4th or 5th time he had done this.  This time though, Marlon King anticipated it, Scimeca underhit it, and that was it.  An easy job for King to round the keeper and slot home.

Yet Caerdydd could still have equalised.  They got a free kick about 25 yards 22.9 metres out.  Up stepped Jason Koumas to bend it onto the right hand post.  The ball bounced out to that thug Darren Purse, who had anticipated what might happen.  All on his own, 2 yards (ok, I've stopped now) out from the post, he smacked it straight back against the same post.

So, full time at Ffordd Vicarage and Watford were home.  They easily deserved it.  The pick of the bunch were their front two Marlon King and Ashley Young, who was playing up front due to Darren Henderson being out.  They were sharp and quick and troubled Purse and Cox throughout.  Now here's another funny thing - I disgress.  When the teams were read out at the start, Caerdydd's No. 6 Neil Cox, ex-Watford, was roundly cheered.  I was just commenting to Janet how nice this was, particularly when compared to the neanderthal Villa fans who always insist on booing any ex-player irrespective of what they've done for the club or the circumstances of their departure.  But then, the next name read out was No. 7 Neil Ardley, also a former Hornet, who was booed very loudly, and throughout the game.   What's the story?  Anyone know?

On loan Manyoo midfielder Chris Eagles looked good; some nice touches and good crosses.  I was also quite impressed with young defender, the wonderfully named LLoyd Doyley.  The typewriter at the registry of births and deaths had only 5 working keys. It's a name that should only be pronunced in a Brummie accent (in Brummie, by the way, the name means "told untruths every day").   As King got the winner, I guess he buys the drinks.  If Doyley gets it, I guess the cakes are on him. 

Conversely, some Watford players had complete mares.  Full back Jordan Stewart and midfielder Matthew Spring seemed incapable of passing to a teammate, while centre back DeMerit looked a liability all afternoon but was somehow named as the Watford man of the match, minutes after gifting Caerdydd their equaliser.  

For Caerdydd, Koumas looked a pale shadow of the player we saw singlehandedly destroy Forest when an Albion player a couple of years ago.  Mind you, there was so little adventure in Caerdydd that maybe he's stifled by the way they play.  Scimeca was awful.  They looked a very ordinary outfit indeed, although goalkeeper Alexander was outstanding.

So that was it.  We got back into our car and made for a real ale pub.  We have Mr Skirrow to thank here.   When he took us to the wonderful Newhampton pub in Wolverhampton earlier this season (Mr Smith has been here too), there was a book for sale on real ale pubs in Championship towns.  I bought one, and headed for one of the three pubs recommended for Watford.  It was quite near Watford Junction station and we suddenly found ourselves in a fairy tale world of little trim terraced houses and cosy pubs.  The pub, the Nascot Arms, did not disappoint.  It was a cosy local, serving a choice of six real ales and various types of nut, loose, by the bowlful.  A pint of Reverend James was quaffed, followed by a swift half of Greene King IPA accompained by a whopping bowl of salted peanuts.  Lovely jubbly.  It was full of local yuppies and hooray Henrys watching the England-Scotland wugger but that added to the ambience.  Very nice.

So, that was it and we wended home passing yet more McDonalds.  Is McDonalds UK based in Watford?  I've never seen so many in one town.  We were left with a positive feel about the place and certainly a place to go to have a decent pint and watch a game.

Oh ................. lest I forget ....................

Rocket Man by Elton John.

Total Ground Number: 50
Current League Ground Number: 46
Marks & Spencer Shop: 38