It was on the plane going to Colombo on November 16, 2007, that I started writing my therapeutic “diary”. Peter Moores crops up in it regularly, such were the frustrations our relationship sometimes caused me.

I should say that there were plenty of things I admired in him — his energy and drive, thoroughness and positive outlook. I did not think he was a bad guy, but there was not a great chemistry between us.

Contrastingly, I had had such a close relationship with Duncan Fletcher that I felt I could almost tell him anything. I did not have the same vibe with Peter, and as we had now been working together for nearly six months I sensed I never would. I felt that I wanted the team to go in one direction, with many of the guys we had used before, and he wanted to go in a fresh direction, with a brand new set of players.

When I arrived in Sri Lanka I was told straightaway about all the new team directives: this is how we are going to motivate ourselves, this is how we are going to warm up, this is how we are going to warm down, this is how we are going to conduct team meetings. Peter did ask what I reckoned about it all, and my reaction was to say that we already had a formula that had brought pretty good results when we were not weakened by injuries.

There could be no complaints about any lack of physical work ethic with Peter in charge. Indeed, it seemed that all he wanted was work, work, work and train, train, train. It showed how much things had moved on from the autumn of 2003, when we went to Bangladesh and I insisted that we should all get in better shape.

Peter liked everyone to use this positive language, which was fine provided that you are naturally that type of person. On the other hand, it is counter-productive and tiring if you are not the type to be perpetually upbeat, and there are plenty in cricket who are not.

I was inclined to the view that this constant positive-think was all American-style bulls***, the sort of thing you read in management manuals. In leadership positions you need people who are natural and who stay on the level whether you win, lose or draw. The most important thing was to adopt the right tone at the right time, as the situation demanded.

Sometimes it might be a rollicking, sometimes upbeat, sometimes a bit of a joke might not go amiss. A few of the players and backroom staff seemed to be talking in this forced manner and I just wanted them to be themselves and be the naturally jovial types that they by and large were. I began to feel pretty uncomfortable with all the lingo and the constant meetings that were being arranged.

There were 2½ weeks’ worth of preparation before the first Test on December 1, which had been switched to the mountain city of Kandy to allow the new ground in Galle, rebuilt after the tsunami, more time to be prepared.

For whatever reason, I just did not feel in any kind of form. Negative thoughts were abounding and my preferred method of just reacting in my own bubble to the ball from the other end was proving hard to capture. I was still a little unnerved by all the hype around the one-day team and questioning whether I should be the captain after their success.

After losing the Test series against Sri Lanka, the squad travels to New Zealand and tensions between captain and coach continue . . .

Before I arrived in New Zealand the squad had been particularly demoralised by an episode immediately after the thrilling fourth one-day international in Napier on February 20. The match had ended in a tie, with the Kiwis equalling our total of 340 in what the pundits would call a pulsating encounter. Having traipsed off the pitch after giving it their all, the players were ordered by Peter to do a full training session.

The idea, apparently, was to show that we were somehow harder than the opposition. This sort of token display showed a fundamental lack of understanding of international sport — and to nobody’s surprise the Kiwis had found it highly amusing and not intimidating in the slightest.

This was the beginning of Peter and me really seeing things from different angles. When I got to New Zealand and met up with the lads, it was clear that there was a lot of irritation with the way they were being treated. It was becoming apparent, for example, that having a day off to recharge the batteries — an essential part of successful long cricket tours — was regarded as a criminal offence.

This was not an especially happy ship and that was reflected not only in the 3-1 defeat in the one-dayers, but also during the first Test. We were pretty dreadful in going down by 189 runs to a spirited Kiwis team, who made 470 in the first innings.

I went into the second Test in Wellington knowing that if we lost I would have to resign, and at 136 for five in the first innings it was looking perilous before Tim Ambrose made an excellent 102, supported by Colly [Paul Collingwood], to get us to 342. Then Jimmy Anderson took five for 73 to dismiss them for 198, but still there were underlying tensions shown up by something that happened after the third day’s play.

We decided to warm down by having a game of football on the outfield. Everyone agreed that we should play, but then Jimmy went over on his ankle. We feared that if he did not play the next day we were going to get lynched when it came out in public. What concerned me was the finger-pointing going on at our fitness trainer, Mark Spivey, with the insinuation that he was going to be in deep s*** for allowing us to play. In fact, the game had been a universal decision and it was wrong that he was automatically getting the blame.

Luckily, Jimmy was just about OK and we got away with it. Our fielding was again not as good as it might have been, but we still won by 126 runs.

We arrived in Napier and I was quickly back into tension mode as we began the build-up to the final Test, which started on March 22. I always felt that, as I was the captain leading the men out on to the field, I wanted control. I still think that the England captain should have ultimate control, but Peter wanted to be in charge from the sidelines. There was an element of the perfectionist about us both.

What I found is that he wanted to do everyone’s jobs for them. So he would come to me and say: “You are going to tell them this in the huddle, aren’t you?” Duncan would never have done that; he would trust me to get on with it. He would continually quote from psychology books, or Mike Atherton’s or Sir Clive Woodward’s autobiography, or somebody’s else’s book, and I would end up thinking: “Give me something I haven’t heard before.”

We won by 121 runs, but my batting contribution was two and four, indicative of my mindset. But I was pleased overall because we had fought hard and were a young, transitional team.

It was our first away Test series win since South Africa in early 2005, yet on that last day as we were trying to get them out I was thinking that I was really not enjoying being captain any more. I was not myself around others and the decision-making process had become a bind. I was actually, at certain points, allowing other players to make the decisions, which was not me at all. I was declining.

When we won the game I had a weird emotion that I did not want to celebrate. We had just won a Test series in New Zealand and, whereas in the past I would have jumped about and made a speech in the dressing room, this time I felt very low. I went and sat outside instead before going to talk to the press.

In the media I had a pop at the fact that some people had thought the wives being around was a bad thing, as they thought had been the case in Australia on the previous Ashes tour. To me that was always trivia and although there had been a few issues on this trip, it was generally complete rubbish. When Jessica is around, for example, KP [Kevin Pietersen] always seems to get a hundred. The more she was on tour the better, as far as I was concerned.

The next morning I felt pretty low and that was when, before the flight home, I went to see Hugh Morris [the managing director of England cricket] with my concerns about myself and the coach.

Peter and I had talked during the Napier Test about the future, during which my impression that he would like a younger captain was reinforced. When I spoke to Hugh I said that maybe I was the one at fault and it would be better to have a change because Peter and I were not on the same wavelength. We ended the meeting with me saying, as I had done to Peter, that I was going to get home and think about a few things and that I would speak to him in about ten days.

The journey home after winning an away series was usually time for satisfied reflection and excited contemplation of what was to come in the new summer. Instead, I felt flat, and the journey north seemed to drag on even longer than ever.

© Michael Vaughan 2009. Extracted from Time to Declare — My Autobiography, to be published by Hodder & Stoughton on October 29 at £19.99. To order a copy for the special-offer price of £17.99 (post free) call Books First on 0845 2712134 or visit timesonline.co.uk/booksfirst