On a Tuesday in Jakarta, Indonesia, sitting at home in our 21st floor flat, very posh it is too, surrounded by all our personal effects that arrived fully six months after we did, overlooking the high-rise centre of the city of Jakarta crammed with 8 million plus citizens. It is 32 degrees outside, as it is every day. Despite this, the aircon is on low to save the planet and the budget. A bead of sweat reaches the cleft in my chin, for which so many people in Indonesia admire me. Don’t ask. Because in the nearly two years we’ve been here, I never did find out why.

‘What do you miss about Leeds Keith?’, the husband inquires out of the blue.

I was sipping on a mug of tea made from a teabag from the dangerously low stock of my favourite Yorkshire brand hidden, not very imaginatively, in a Yorkshire Tea Tin away from the thirsts of passers-through and guests alike. They get something else.

Bored in waiting for my answer, the husband suggests Leeds’s architecture, her ambiance, her thriving arts scene.

I drift off into a memory of the Easter trip, several years before, when Leeds revealed herself to us. She took only a couple of hours to make us decide. It would be in the bosom of Leeds where we would settle down after forty years on the road, forty years of life in exotic places. Leeds revealed her wares in spades, and we accepted them wholeheartedly.

‘Er, hello?’ The husband was asserting himself.

‘Sorry sweetie, I was just thinking about that day I took you to Leeds for the first time, and how we just looked at each other and said, “this is it…why don’t we move here?” We both knew then Manchester was beaten hands down’.

‘What do I miss? Well, her architecture, her ambiance, her thriving arts scene obviously.’

‘I’ve mentioned those already.’ The husband is being assertive again.

‘Of course, I miss our friends. I miss how multicultural Leeds is and how we can find people from every country we have ever visited living somewhere close to us, along with their food obviously. What about you, sweetie? ‘

‘I miss my work colleagues,’

‘Me too’, I interjected.

‘And shopping in the Central Market and the Asian food markets and all markets really.’

‘Well at least we know those will all be there when we get back. How long has it been now?’ I said rather more downheartedly than I was actually feeling.

‘Six days. Another year and 359 to go’

‘Mmmmm’, I said reflectively, ‘better reuse this tea bag again then.’