I went to Leeds Christmas Market and found it overpriced and too busy - but I still can't stay away

The annual bazaar returned to the city last month after a four-year hiatus.

And because that absence left festive revellers bereft of something tacky to throw money at, their expectations for its return were higher than ever.

Leeds City Council promised that the market would be “bigger and better” this year.

The first part is certainly true. The sprawling citadel of shining stalls has conquered much of the city.

With a bustling base at Millennium Square and a handful of satellite markets taking over smaller spaces, there’s little left to colonise.

A clever business move, if you think about it. Spread the Christmas market across the city and you’ll get more people in the shops.

But having said that, most of the action still happens outside Civic Hall – so the smaller smatterings of market stalls look a bit miserable.

I set out on my third trip this week taking in all of the same sights and confirming what I already knew to be true: however “bigger and better” you make it, Christmas markets are the same everywhere.

Starting the evening at Thor’s Tipi in The Headrow, a Viking-esque tent serving all the heavy hitters of the festive season, I armed myself with a steaming cup of mulled wine.

It’s one of those drinks that I’m never sure if I actually like, but find myself drowning in every December.

For £4.90 a cup, it’s cheaper than elsewhere in the market, but still the first blow to my wallet.

It’s no wonder a certain tabloid newspaper branded it the “most expensive” Christmas market in the UK. A tornado potato skewered intimidatingly on a stick costs £6. And for a barbequed sausage, it’s £8.

But the food, however expensive, is good. I devoured a bowl of katsu curry chips, which were swimming in a glorious orange sauce and topped with electric pink pickled onions.

And the ideas are creative too – from a stall serving Yorkshire Pudding wraps to a build-your-own Christmas crumble station, there’s no shortage of inventive money-making schemes.

But to enjoy them, I had to brave the freezing temperatures. Chattering teeth and shivering limbs weren’t great for lifting the spirits. That’s not a criticism of the market as such, but a couple of outdoor heaters wouldn’t have gone amiss.

And then there’s the sheer size of the crowds. There seems to be no way to get anywhere fast in Leeds at Christmas, as punters waddle like penguins at a painstakingly slow pace.

After a lap of Millennium Square – deciding against the rides that looked horrifying – the fatigue started to set in.

When’s this over? All I could see were people in mile-long queues looking like they’d been forced into buying a giant cuddly toy, or a giant waffle, or a giant potato on a stick, or a giant whatever else.

Is anyone enjoying themselves? If they are, their expressions betray their joy. Do you need help? Can I call someone for you?

I found myself repeating the same phrases: “You are enjoying yourself” and “this is good”. It returned a smile to my face.

I wanted a second mulled wine. This time, I laced it with a shot of brandy. You’re nearly at the end, James.

It did the trick and I perked up, although I did get reprimanded for attempting to leave the designated mulled wine consumption zone with the beverage in hand.

One final lap of the stalls and I was finished. Proud of my efforts, I’d earned another drink, so picked up one more mulled wine. By now, it was beginning to taste nice.

I left my third visit to the Christmas market in a similar state to my first two trips – freezing and knackered. Will I be back again? Of course I will.