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Cold turkey
By Sean Fulton
Let me take you on an adventure. It all began in May of 2004. We had just beaten Reading 1-0 to end what had been a turbulent season. As I walked away from the Rookery, I shed a tear over the fact that a summer job would keep me away from my second home until three months into the following season.

Fast forward to a campsite in the middle of France on the evening of August 9th... I found myself desperately trying to contain my excitement as I heard news of our 3-0 destruction of QPR. Despite my best efforts, I lose control and end up being thrown into the campsite lake, drunk in the early hours of the following morning. Whilst it may not quite have been the pond (it was far too clean to even come close), it made me feel like I was at least part of something happening at my second home.

Fast forward to September 11th. Having quit my job early due to a need to return to the Vic, I arrive early and savour the atmosphere of my second home. Okay, we put in an average performance, but I loved every minute of it. Watford were in my blood and nothing could ever replace them.

But since then, everything's changed...

Fast forwarding to the current day, I find myself second-homeless. I've gone from someone who wore his Watford shirt under his uniform in France on match days to someone who now hasn't renewed his season ticket for the first time since I care to remember. Instead of leaving France early to get back to Watford, I am now planning on leaving Watford to return to France for more seasons abroad. This is something that previously had been unthinkable.

Whilst I loved my time abroad, I hated missing out on watching Watford. I've often described Watford as my vice. Sometimes I have a good trip, sometimes I have a bad one, but no matter what I'd return week-in week-out, nervous with excitement over what I'd experience. But obviously I've found myself on a bad trip and this downers's gone on for far too long, so I've decided to go Cold Turkey. I still hate seeing what's going on at the club, but I'd rather live in tent for six months of the year than watch a pale imitation of the team I love.

Watford will never leave me, but now I feel that I have to leave Watford, because quite frankly what's going on here hurts far too much.