Happiness, happiness, the greatest gift that we possess - or so the song goes. And across the country at the moment, there are few happier places than Bradford.

Riding on the euphoria of Bradford City's knife-edge escape from relegation, the city is awash with the normally elusive Feelgood Factor.

Instead of the usual downtrodden, glum expressions on people's faces as they trudge around the city centre with their shopping, everyone is smiling, upbeat and happy.

But how long can it last? A few days, a week, a month? There's nothing like a great bit of news to lift the spirit, but by nature we Brits - and particularly we Yorkshire folk - are a miserable lot. We like to feel sorry for ourselves and find it hard to be jolly for long.

Once the initial elation of a happy event dies down, we quickly revert to type, moaning and groaning. I have tried to recall the times in my life when I felt happy beyond belief. And how long the feeling lasted...

PASSING my A-levels: So the grades were awful, but they guaranteed a place at the college of my choice and I was thrilled. I wasn't renowned for hard work at school - preferring to fool around and drool over boys - and I found the exams very tough, so I was hugely proud of myself. The elation waned after the summer break when I realised that they weren't my passport to instant fame and fortune, and that harder work had to follow.

GETTING selected to play tennis for North Yorkshire: That was probably the highlight of my life - beating childbirth and everything. I was on cloud nine for ages - possibly up to a year - and I'm still chuffed when I talk about it. Sadly, I didn't make Wimbledon - not even as a ball girl. And the last time I had the chance to play, Tim Henman was in nappies. I still get acute pangs of regret even looking at a tennis court.

BEING asked out by my first boyfriend: Young and in love - that's a feeling which is hard to describe, but wonderful in every sense. If only you could bottle it. But as every woman knows, the feeling only lasts until around the second date, when cracks begin to show in Mr Perfect's personality. By the third date you're spending hours on the phone to friends whining about how inconsiderate he is.

WINNING £27 on a scratch card: It was last thing at night in the late shop and I only bought it to get rid of loose change. It was the first one I'd ever bought and everyone in the queue cheered when I won. The thrill was only momentary, however, and I fretted all the way home in case I'd be mugged.

GETTING a place at college to study journalism: After doing around 30 jobs in ten years, I thought I'd finally found a profession I'd be happy in. And I still am, by and large - with such a varied workload, I think I'm right for it, but you never know - recently I've had a nagging doubt that I should have been a movie star.

THE birth of my first daughter: Her safe arrival was a relief at first, but quickly followed by a whoosh of happiness. Or maybe that was the epidural kicking in. As new mums will vouch, after that you save the smiles for visitors, and spend much of the time scared to death as you wonder what you've let yourself in for.

You may ask why I haven't included my marriage. We'd been together so long when it happened that we were already jaded and disillusioned - one of those couples who sit in the pub (in our case at our own wedding reception) looking as if they've just lost a winning lottery ticket and say nothing for hours on end.

Looking back on my 39 years on this planet, I can count the high spots on two hands. Yet I'd need a loo roll to list all the low points. No doubt most people will say the same.

That's why events like Bradford's brilliant win are crucial in lifting us - albeit temporarily - out of the doldrums. Let the smiles continue - at least until the weekend, when we'll all lose on the Lottery and be back to our miserable selves.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.