Ok, we have long since established that while I live in small village in Buckinghamshire, I come from God’s Own County.. I’m  a Yorkshire lass. But you would be forgiven, knowing the concentrated power of having heather in the blood, for putting me down as a country girl, born and bred in the moors. Not so… though I might as well have been, given the time I have spent wandering through the landscape as far back as I can remember. I was born in Leeds and spent the biggest part of my childhood there.

I know it well… though my recent visit showed so many changes as the city I knew has responded to altered economic circumstances and morphed from  a smoke blackened mill town to a sleek and beautiful modern city. It was a properous place and civic pride endowed it with many fine buildings and institutions. The demise of the cloth industry hit hard and the city suffered, but it has risen again like a phoenix from the ashes.

Credit, however, is due to the planners on this one. I recall the horrendous monstrosities of the first age of concrete and dreaded the demise of the gracious buildings of the past couple of centuries. But no. They demolished them some years ago from the inside out, leaving and preserving the elegant façades. They wrapped Dyson’s in black plastic while they worked. The whole building. And it stands there still with its clock reminding us of how time flies.

The main thoroughfare gave rise to the local saying for anywhere crowded and bustling.. busy as Briggate on a Saturday. Though it is now devoid of buses and cars, it is still true. Whitelock’s still nestles, almost unchanged, bar the name, since 1715 in its little alley, as do the other historic inns.  Streets have been roofed in glass, clear to allow fabulous skyscapes, or stained to project a rainbow of colour. Before one such arcade stands the Briggate Minerva by Andy Scott.. a truly beautiful and powerful work of modern art, while inside the arcade his Equus Altus gazes out at the spires.

We ‘do’ arcades well in Leeds. From the narrow Thornton’s Arcade with its fantastic clock to the Queen’s.. there are many of them, all different, all beautifully preserved. One used to house the Spinning Disc…. fond memories of teenage years there, and of learning my trade as a window dresser in the shop opposite… then a menswear store, now rather upmarket.

The Corn Exchange, once a sad remnant of its former glory has been restored and houses boutiques and coffee bars under its vast roof. Murals now cover the building by the bus stop I used to use, where once the Mackeson’s sign used to fascinate a small child.

The magnificent Kirkgate Market still sails like some fantastic ship across the city centre, the largest covered market in Europe… and the one by which, for a Leeds lass, all other markets are measured.  I read my way through thousands of books from Stringer’s.. they did a wonderful deal.. buy, return and get a discount on the next.

Of course,Town Halls that don’t have the right number of eroded lions, a concert hall and pillars just aren’t acceptable…. and  I judge all theatres by the Grand too… although we do have others… ( note the pride creeping in here?).  Leeds has always had a vibrant arts scene, with museums and galleries, colleges and exhibitions. That I doubt will ever change.

My very first job, when I was 12, was in a butcher’s shop in the city centre… I washed trays and prepared meats in the back of the shop every night after school and all day Saturday.. for the princely sum of £2.98 I recall. But, apart from the experience and the birthing of a work ethic, the best bit was the ‘perk’.We would be asked to advertise theatre productions and given free tickets… I saw every opera, ballet and production of Shakespeare that came to town for years. Bands, rock and pop stars, no… those tickets were snapped up. I got left with the good stuff.

My flying visit didn’t even cover the whole of the city centre… let alone the rest of the city… but where else would you find a barge in the middle of a city street pretending to be a pub, while the owls of the civic centre gleam golden in the sunlight? Civic pride? Oh yes.