How that complacency and reckless desire for convenience came back to haunt me over six tortuous years that saw Burnley not only marooned in Division Four, but annaul visits to London Road increasingly ranked alongside a trip to the dentist in terms of potential enjoyment. A 0-0 draw early in that first season gave no indication of the carnage that was to follow. Even during our darkest hour in the spring of 1987 when we stared extinction in the face, we managed a creditable 1-1 result.

I can't explain what happened after that. The 'new dawn' that was 1987 saw a revitalised Clarets arrive at London Road only to skulk back up the M6 on the wrong end of a 5-0 drubbing. Hopes that this was a one-off lasted about as long as a European Cup-run by Blackburn Rovers.

1988, the corner appeared to have been turned. A free-scoring Burnley sat proudly on top of the division as we came to London Road confident of consolidating our lead. Every open-topped coach operator in East Lancashire was on alert for a booking in early May. Inevitably, a 3-0 reverse ensued. Ian Botham's good friend and ex-Clarets goalkeeper Joe Neenan was now the Posh custodian. As is the custom, he received a friendly greeting from the forgiving Burnley faithful: "Neenan rolls a joint, Neenan Neenan rolls a joint," rang out from the away end. Based on the level of activity in the Peterborough goalmouth, he would have had every opportunity to do just that. The Clarets never recovered and finished the season in 16th place.

The following season, as the reappointed Frank Casper came dangerously close to fulfilling his promise to to get Burnley out of the Fourth Division at the first attempt, the Clarets were steamrollered 4-1 to a backdrop of "Vauxhall Conference here we come, doo dah, doo dah," echoing from the terraces. This was just a foretaste of what was to come. To the bemusement of the Peterborough supporters, who either made their way home or alternatively joined in, several hundred disgruntled travelling Lancastrians massed in the car park to demand noisily the resignation of both Casper and chairman Frank Teasdale.

At 2-0 down after 20 minutes of the October 1990 encounter, a Clarets recovery looked about as likely as Gordon Strachan buying a round at the annual meeting of Premiership referees. But Ron Futcher had apparently not read the script. A quick two-goal salvo brought Burnley level just before half-time. Normal service was predictably and inevitably resumed immediately after Rocket Ron's second strike. A cross was powerfully punched clear by John Pender (those of you familiar with lower division journeymen will know that he is a defender and not a goalkeeper). Penalty, 3-2, and that's how it stayed. Ron's response was to give Pender a bollocking and then refuse to return to the centre circle for the re-start. The lanky striker's application to join the Samaritans was apparently rejected soon afterwards.

Mercifully, Peterborough, at the risk of missing a home banker whenever Burnley were in town, gained promotion. The Clarets, relieved of this annual drubbing, followed suit in the following campaign. My only purpose for continuing to live in Peterborough now removed, I left in 1992 to live in Cambridge. However, the thought of watching Burnley play at the Abbey Stadium and getting home in time for Sports Report has for some reason never held much appeal.

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