Looking back at my old photographs, it would appear that I spent much of my youth stood on top of Beacon Hill, Halifax! If it were true, such behaviour can be partly justified by the fact that the top of Beacon Hill was the nearest we had to drones fifty years ago. From there, you could look down on the town in all its glory – and as a lover of Halifax, I would happily defend the choice of the word “glory” with anyone over a pint or two. Words can’t really do it justice, so instead just look at the mills and the towers, the bridges and the spires. Who needs Florence when Halifax is only a couple of miles from the M62?