Eddie Bennett, who lives in Heaton, has been a Bradfordian since the 1950s - and he wouldn't have it any other way.

My nephew Nicky left Windhill for the bright lights of London to make his fortune. Not only was he successful, he managed to bag himself a bride as well.

On one of our frequent visits his wife, Sue, confessed to me that she had never been on a picnic.

That is why, a few weeks later we happened to be sitting on a grassy bank at the entrance to Trollers Gill.

The sun shone in a cloudless sky as we sought the shade of a big old tree. Nearby was a tinkling stream and limestone cliffs surrounded us. She turned to me and said "Uncle Eddie, I didn't know such places existed." "Do me a favour", I replied, "When you get back to London, don't tell anyone."

I feel the same way about Bradford. Some treasures are made all the better for their discovering.

The trouble with boasting is that you have to live up to it.

Funnily enough, I haven't always felt this way about Bradford. When I first came in the late Fifties I was most unimpressed. A few years ago the Bradford Festival Committee ran a poetry competition and I submitted one telling of that coming and my subsequent conversion. I didn't hear anything, so I guess I didn't win. However, I can still remember an odd verse or two. It opened with: Afoggy morn in Forster Square A taste of sulphur in the air A train pulls in and folk alight I'm left alone to rue my plight.

Acouple of verses later I have my first meeting with a 'Bradfordian' on the station forecourt: All at once an alien sound "Ey up lad, where's tha bound?"

I look around, a friendly face A hand outstretched to take my case.

This kind stranger sat me in his battered van and ran me across town to the university. I then went on to record how the place began to grow on me, and upon graduation I actually began working for the local authority. The renaissance that was happening at that time was recorded in the following couplet: The place that launched a thousand quips Now manufactures micro chips.

Afew more verses and I finished with the following plea: AmI still an 'offcumd'un' Or am I at last Bradfordian?

I'm not suggesting that every visitor should be given 45 years to make up their mind, just that the making up of one's own mind is all important.

I felt that the slogan 'Bradford - A Surprising Place' hit just the right note - it didn't actually say whether the surprise is pleasant, or otherwise.

The yuppiefication of Bradford seems to be going ahead at quite a pace in spite of little or no encouragement. And don't forget, where the yuppies go, Harvey Nicks will surely follow.

Anyway, are we ready yet to open our doors to the rest of the world? Broadway is still a building site.

The exercise in public relations known as 'The Odeon' is still to be resolved, and the 'Great Lake' debacle hasn't even made the debating chamber yet.

I submit, m'lud, that all this shouting is just a bit previous.