My first impressions of Bradford (aged fifteen) were of the most almighty dump, fit for nothing. As Mike Reid once said,"'They could drop an atom bomb on Bradford, and do fifteen quid's worth of damage!". And yet for some bizarre reason I came to University here to do Civil Engineering, and it was my first choice! You see, I came again a couple of years later, and saw one of the greatest places in the world to be a student.

There is a bit of a footballing wilderness up here mind you, the Bradford Bulls (nee Northern) draw 10,000 crowds for rugby league, and the pub talk is of tries, not goals. The local attractions include Harry Ramsdens, Bronte Country and several museums of note. The best of which is the National Museum of Film, Photography and Television; which boast the country's only IMAX cinema (five stories high).

Apart from Bradford City, the locals mainly support Leeds and Merchandise Utd. Two teams I hate with a comparable passion to the Scum. Leeds supporters I find to be smug getts who can't take losing. The one occasion I did venture out to see City play, it was like a group of ten year olds playing, with everyone forgetting which position they were, and chasing after the ball. Looked like rugby to me!

Bradford (the place) didn't disappoint me, and with a BEng under my arm, I didn't disappoint it. I wish during the same time I could say the same for the Hornets. Things reached a head last summer. The one consolation of relegation I reasoned was that I would only have a five minute drive to Valley Parade to see the Golden Boys stuff The Bantams. This went by the way when Bradford City fought (valiantly) through the playoffs, and we passed each other in purgatory.

By this time, of course, I am now married, and living out of Bradford and in a village near Bingley called Gilstead. Here you can buy a two bedroom semi with garage and 60 foot garden for £38,000 (I know cos I did). The local hostelry specialises in Timothy Taylors (Make mine a pint of Golden Best). Trips to see the 'orns include Huddersfield, York, Barnsley and Burnley.

Life's pretty good here, although I think a trip to my shrink is order soon. I keep having this recurring nightmare that I'll have to go to Stockport to see the golden boys play year after year, whilst Bedfordshire becomes the centre for footballing excellence as first L*ton then Baldock Town go on to win the Champions League, no, no, nooooooo...