I loved the smell of the old Cramphorns, Chelmsford; a big barn of a structure that existed years ago. Going there with my father on some errand or other, the very air would be full of heavy animal feed, so strong it would stay on your clothes until home.
I loved the overpowering smell of tomatoes that grew in the enormous old greenhouse that leant against the high wall at my grandparent’s. The dusky fruit would be sold at Broomfield Stores, along with everything else necessary for life.
I loved the sticky smell of the Underground, waiting on the platform for the breeze to indicate the next train to tumble through. The grime and grease and dirt and electricity on the tracks below amalgamated into a open working mechanical pit.
I loved the rich smell of the Spaghetti House Italian restaurant on Duke Street, full of garlic and basil. Saturday lunchtimes would sometimes be spent here with my mother, just she and I, as we carefully selected from the menu amidst the tang of rich Italian wine, Parmesan and ravioli.
I loved the satisfying smell of the mid-summer meadows, the cut grass ferment and the shaded hedgerow damp, the dry fields and skylarks. My only partners in the sweated walk along Lydiate Lane to the vantage point above Lynton, would be the lazing cows and sheep.
I love the rickety, seaweed smell of the large pebbles on Dungeness. Mixed with their squawk and rub that jarred on the long windy walk along the coast, would be the occasional rotten crab, fly-blown fish and seagull dropping.
I loved the air-still smell of wood smoke lazily ascending from the winter chimneys in the Weald. Some came from the old Hawkhurst house of us newlyweds kept warm by wet logs fresh cut that took an age to burn.
I loved the deep green smell of the River Weaver on the long walk round, full of rush and pike and weed. Brought home on the dogs’ wet coats, the wetness filled the house for a day and a half with a canine intensity, in time for a return visit.
I loved the clean smell of after-bath babies, wrapped in warm towels and drying hair. Only an hour before bedtime, the evening was a care-full snuggling, all kisses and love until sleep overwhelmed.
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