Oh lovely Leiden,

How it aches me that we should part. I have only known you for such a short time, but in those few months I have fallen in love with your canals and your narrow alleys, your stately buildings and your friendly atmosphere.

Allow me to daydream, for what would you be like if you were personified? The Dutch are too down-to-earth for such things, but while you are so typically Dutch, you radiate romance.

I imagine you as a student, a stereotypical Leiden student; a bit haughty and snobbish, very outspoken, but also elegant and feminine. You are not like the tomboyish women I usually fall for; I keep that image for that other town.

You are Cambridge, I was Oxford, or the other way around. I was sceptical when I first met you, thought you aloof and clumsy but then I got to know you and I noticed that beneath those silk scarves and this expensive coat, there was a woman of great depth. You spoke the queen's Dutch and dressed like a lady rather than a girl in her twenties, but when we sat down along the canal and listened to the barrel-organ, I got to know you better.

You weren't materialistic, just well groomed and a bit posh. You told me of thousands of years of memories including those of my parents. You showed me where they had lived and I envied them.

We walked over the bridges and past the old greenhouses of the centuries old botanical garden. You showed me the windmills and the quays where the Pilgrim fathers left for America, the many museums and the birthplace of Rembrant. And at your heart, the hidden fortress. It was only a circular wall on an artificial mound, but you had chosen its location well.

There we lay in the grass and laughed. I stroked your hair and felt so quiet. You seemed so much warmer than anyone I had ever met before. I felt home with you. You were still so young and sparkling in spite of your thousands of years. So optimistic and bright.

But now I have to leave you, Town of Keys. You will always be the most beautiful town of Holland.