One of my favourite songs is Tara Hill by the the Fureys. OK, its an old romantic song, in the sense of idealised Ireland and historic romanticism, but it's still wonderfully evocative.
We all have a place we remember with fondness, a place that we'd long to go back and see perhaps for personal memories, for associations with times past, or because they link in with our national psyche.
It could be the pub where you first met your sweetheart, a park where you used to ride your bike as a child, or a windswept ancient building which speaks to you of the stories of the people who lived, fought, or died there.
And sometimes, people just don't realise what treasures they have:
And look: Even the apostate King Henry VIII is out for saving Tara Hill! ;-)
And to think I was happy to see Roath Park after a few years away! ;-)