The first time for a while, this, in the 'Capital of the North'. The good folk of Manchester might have something to say about that but they're a proud bunch this side of the Pennines so it's a whistle-stop whirl of what's on offer.
That and a family gathering, actually, hence the small window of opportunity. Starting at the train station, there's plenty to catch the eye, a waterier-than-expected environment and a chance for some retail therapy.
Hang on! Did you just say 'retail therapy'? We've been perusing this nonsense periodically and very much admire your irreverent take on the travel guide and imaginative avoidance of the cliché but 'retail therapy'? Really?
You'll be telling us you 'tripped the light fantastic' next. Retail therapy? Come on!
Emerging from the train station, the first thing to catch the eye is the and while this may be Art Deco, there's not much decorum on show.
The sunny, Bank Holiday weekend has large groups of plastered ladies wearing lots of fake tan but not much else, you see, making this native's hometown of Newcastle look like Saudi Arabia on a Saturday night, eh?
It's enough to make Edward the Black Prince fall off his horse but here's a thing, it's thought the farthest he ever ventured north was Chester.
Following the acquiring of city status in 1893, a big bit of bronze was required but there simply wasn't someone famous enough from Leeds and the 14th-century master of chivalry, or brutal executioner depending on your side of the channel, has been a talking point ever since.
It was cotton, not the suspected coal, that got Leeds rich and the imposing, industrial-era architecture casts shadows as long as the links to the slave trade.
Bumbling around the area north of the train station, it all lends Leeds a look that isn't totally spoiled by what the pen-pushers at City Hall saw as progress, probably.
Top-notch coffee and a fantastic array of Italian specialities including the posh focaccia sandwich, something their nation tends to do rather well. There's more Mediterranean representation just outside with a, very much, French pétanque player, pardon?
He's demonstrating the game to a pair of bemused, Yorkshire folk, apparently. Leeds is twinned with Lille, you see, and this celebrates the association with an annual tournament played on a real court right in front.
Speaking of City Hall, this is Leeds Town Hall with the 1850s a time before city status, remember?
The pen-pushers were pushed out to a new, Art Deco Civic Hall, not shown, in the '30s but this is Leeds' most prominent landmark, probably, and looks like it'll be nice when it's finished although the still continue.
All this by Cuthbert Brodrick, a noted, Yorkshire architect with Hull still about just qualifying. The one next door isn't, as first thought, one of his, though, with the coming some 30 years later.
For more of Brodrick's handiwork, it's only 5 minutes up to but who has time for either with the clock ticking down?
Not considered high-profile enough to sit astride a horse, Brodrick is deemed worthy by Wetherspoon™s, no less, to name one of their four, it's thought, slightly-out-of-date ale providers in the city centre. Brodrick was also behind the, now demolished, public baths but this place swims with a variety of very different fluids.
Elsewhere, the Director of Contrived Waterhole Naming nearly gets full marks for the stat-smashing spin bowler although you'll have to head off in the direction of Headingly for that.
Heading east along The Headrow brings you to Leeds' main shopping area and Victoria Quarter is one of the main draws for those fond of some, here you go, retail therapy. With their quota of quarters already used up, however, doesn't that mean the pen-pushers at Civic Hall can't count?
It would seem so and it's subsequently been downgraded to a 'District' but here is home to a handful of fine, Victorian shopping arcades.
This reputation for prosperous purchasing convinced Harvey Nichol™s to open their first store outside of London up here although Manchester and Edinburgh have since caught up.
Trinity Leeds, however, is more of a modern, shopping abomination and, sorry Leeds, could just about be anywhere.
One of the ladies in a prosecco-fuelled pack is advised to nip back out to Harvey Nick™s to pick up a more modest pair, of knicks, that is. This one inadvertently copped a right eyeful on the escalator up.
Proper old-skool Music Hall from the mid-1800s although they've since stuck a glass bit on the side and the music and comedy is of the largely-contemporary variety.
They do, however, also host regular recreations of a Victorian evening's entertainment advertised as, aww, what was it called again?... !
Yes, where a pint down is a distant memory for everyone, these days.
For fans of less fanciful fayre, is, depending on who you ask or Google™, either one of the largest indoor markets or the largest covered market in Europe.
The central 1875 Hall is a clue to the age while the 1976 and 1981 Halls hint at the fire that demanded some rebuilding. 100,000 visitors a week, they say, just not Sundays so the Victorian vibe is confined to the arcades today.
Just down and there's evidence of some slightly-earlier era trading at the old . Another one from Cuthbert Brodrick's considerable portfolio, they're still trading but now it's boutique and independent retailers.
Not so much rye bags more like buy rags from a retro-vintage-fashion outlet, these days, eh?
It's an ideal candidate for a Wetherspoon™s but they already look to have Leeds covered and were clearly too late to the lease.
It's a short hop through Leeds' LGBT 'district' called 'The Calls', locally speaking.
That might be rooted in some old Roman path, or something, and with a high concentration of hipster fleshpots, advising trippers award the area at least IV out of V for a night out.
The imaginatively named Leeds Bridge is exactly where it says it is and does exactly what it says it does. With all of the ingredients locally sourced, the 1870 cast iron replaced a medieval effort that looks to have lasted longer than expected.
The bridge is over the River Aire, of course, and the watery divide marks a distinct change of scenery. Gone is all the industrial-era architecture, almost, to be replaced with countless blocks of glassy, generic gentrification that could just about be anywhere.
Absolutely everybody, yes everybody, living in Central Leeds works in a call centre, you see, yes everybody. One of the trappings of that lifestyle is to live in a rented shoebox with cardboard walls only half of whom have a view of a waterway, anyway.
Seriously, there must be thousands and this can be the only possible explanation for the scale of this construction, surely?
 This much appears to be nearly true.
It's only natural to want to follow the river but some zig-zagging down Dock Street is required.
It looks like a rare case of renovating rather than rebuilding but soon after crossing a main road, here is the motherlode of riverside redevelopments.
tells you all you need to know, really, but some rebranding was required after the initial attempt to tempt failed.
It also marks the end of the Aire and Calder Navigation, a marvellously-named stretch of early-18th century waterway designed to get coal in and wool out of the city.
Not that too much of it is known other than a friend of a friend of a friend knew the bass player in a bunch of relatively-unknown who recorded a rather good that namechecks it as a melancholic metaphor for something, or something.
Leeds Dock is a mixed-use development where you can eat, sleep, work and... freely celebrate warfare in all of its forms.
Yes, you've all seen it signposted off the but there was no idea it was bang-bang in the centre. Who knew Wellington was nearly outflanked at Waterloo and who doesn't want to fire a crossbow?
Benjamin! Stop disembowelling your brother in the gift shop and put that sword back, now! Honestly.
 Quite a few people if this sort of thing is your thing, apparently.
There's a option if the increasing kms are making the old legs weary and it's run by a no-nonsense Yorkshireman who doesn't know if he can be bothered to bring you back or not.
Far better, though, is to head back over the busy road and through the big Brewery Wharf Car Park, like that's not enough of a clue.
The old headquarters of the Tetley™s brewery is now a small and the brewery site is, well, now a big car park with the word 'Wharf' in it.
The thirst-quenching entrepreneurs Joshua and Joseph Tetley made their money in beer and tea respectively and were related in the same way that PG Wodehouse and PG Tips were i.e. they weren't.
The brewery lasted until 2011 when the weekly whiff moved south to Wolverhampton, or wherever, long since swallowed by some big, thirsty multinational or other
They'll let you in and around for nowt and today's main exhibition is certainly graphic but more in an kind of way.
There's access most areas via the original staircase including the old boardroom where Joshua plotted to have Tetley™s on tap in every pub in Leeds by the 1970s, probably.
That's a plan that worked out very well, as it happened, but it's not all about the Tetley™s back downstairs in a glass cabinet full of unopened bottles of retro booze.
As a former and junior , this is the highlight of the weekend, actually, and they're all there from the golden ale days of ale... Skol™, Ind Coope™, Courage™, ™ in a maltily-informative and less-monopolistic display, or is it?
See that bottle of Carlsberg™ Elephant Ale circa 1977? Carlsberg™ would go on to acquire at some point, if they hadn't already, all of the brands you see, Tetley™s included, you see.
Craft beer botherers will be tugging on their foot-long beards bemoaning the global corporisation of their beloved obsession with the barley. Relax man, this has been going on since the sixties so you might want to think about that the next time you're supping from a tiny tin of .
We don't brew mild... Yes you .
We don't brew stout... Yes you .
We don't brew cider... Yes you .
Just not in the traditional, family-run kind of way that your branding sometimes suggests and they're .
There's a lady downstairs advertising, get this, two-hour walking tours of Leeds like you can't believe the cheek of it, neither. This pairs' interest was immediately piqued, curious as to whether her history is as meticulously researched as some of this, erm, content.
Looking at Rachael's C.V., that would seem to be the case although it's not thought her factualities are nearly so informative on the Wetherspoon™s or Carlsberg™ front.
Had you taken the water taxi, it brings you here to Granary Wharf another reclaimed piece of riverside with Bridgewater Place, aka 'The Dalek', in the background.
Leeds' tallest building can be seen from twenty-five miles away, they say, so that supposedly includes from the top of Ilkley Moor, with or without a suitable form of headwear?
Here also marks the start of the Leeds-Liverpool Canal, a far more convenient conduit for international exports than the Aire and Calder to Humberside.
It's possible that bags of flour made their way west from here but Granary Wharf is more of a twentieth-century invention and it sounds a lot less intimidating than the 'Dark Arches'.
They are what Leeds train station sits on, a network of Victorian tunnels through which the River Aire still flows with a right musty whiff.
They were built to span the river to support the original station and some of the 1860s arches have been repurposed as much-to-be-expected fleshpots making for a very different kind of customer service to that on offer here up until the early '90s, they say.
It's up and into the station to finish full circle where, get this, there's yet another Wetherspoon™s. No name for this one, not even 'The Station' and quite a few lagered-up Leodensians are making the most of it before making their way back to Morley, or wherever.
It's such a shame after a lovely afternoon out and watching the people get lairy, it's not very pretty I tell thee.
Some even think there might be a later, right kids?