Coming Home to Leeds

Any week now I’ll be living in Leeds again. I’ve been telling myself that for the last several weeks. We’re in that strange legal limbo, the no-man’s land between selling and buying a house and actually signing the contracts then moving in. It’s an odd space, where time seems to expand, making a day feel like a week, a week like a month and – well, you get the picture.

I grew up in Leeds but I haven’t lived there since January 3, 1976. I’ve been back regularly, sometimes for a week or more at a time. But it’s only in recent years that I’ve realised it’s where I need to be, it’s where my heart lies. Most of my books are set there, albeit well in the past. I know it in my bones in a way I’ll never know anywhere else.

My partner’s daughter went to university there and stayed. She’s made a life for herself but she’s stayed close to her mother. Events have aligned in a way that makes this a perfect time to sell, buy and put ourselves in that great Yorkshire city.

It’s a big, daunting adventure, of course. And right now, after hanging around as lawyers do whatever it is they do in these situations, all we want is for it to be over. Most everything’s packed, boxes all over the house.

Soon, though, we’ll be in Leeds. And you know what? It’s going to feel just like coming home.

7 thoughts on “Coming Home to Leeds

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