Nowadays I fancy smell has become less and less important as so much of life has become odour neutral, yet all my early memories of summer revolve around those potent olfactory experiences.
We used to travel down to Hakin in Pembrokeshire for our summer holidays some 60 years ago and even now I can smell the burning oil and coal of the trains, the somewhat caustic smell of the upholstery, the air full of cigarette smoke and ash, and then the moment we knew we were almost there, that heady delightfully acidic smell of baking bread as we passed the bakery at Johnstone, and finally Milford Haven and that first whiff of fish, salt seaweeds and sea, the true smell of summer, and even then on arriving at my grandparents bungalow overlooking the Haven, that glorious confusion of roses and lavender, then stepping into the house, the smell of polish, perfumed air, strange chemicals in the bathroom, Milton, Aquaflavin each releasing their own odours, even the Izal toilet paper had its own aroma,and then you looked out of the window at the haven water glistening in the sunlight the sound of the boats rocking on their anchoring points and you awoke to the totality of ones senses as sounds, smells and sight merged into one vision of enchantment and contentment.

the transfer window is open so the whiff of bullshit pervades the air.

When does the Premier League season start?

Are you a repressed Author?

About the same time as the Labour Party purge IT.

BBQ

The heady aroma of cowshit being spread when any gentle breeze is (always) in the wrong direction.

Freshly cut grass
Bbq
That damp smell after someones watered the plants/washed their car

ablueclaret wrote:even the Izal toilet paper had its own aroma

Aye, the smell of utter frustration as it smeared up your back and laid waste to your nipsy.

Funnily I was asking my wife about the smells she remembered from her childhood. and being a Liverpudlian from a very poor area she really didn't have many positive ones, I guess I was pretty fortunate.

The smell after a brief rain shower during a sunny day.

Napalm in the morning

ablueclaret wrote:Nowadays I fancy smell has become less and less important

Utter codswallop, smell is the very first thing I consider before I start to stalk someone. Date someone. I mean date.

I can still smell the tomatoes growing on my grandads allotment up behind bank street in Padiham. Probably late 70's early 80's. I get really nostalgic when I catch a whiff of a greenhouse.

"The smell after a brief rain shower during a sunny day."

Really freshens up the cat and dog pee.

Standing on the white cliffs of Dover looking out to sea and getting a real whiff of Brexit.

"A hot summer's day and sticky black tarmac"

Foshiznik wrote:The smell after a brief rain shower during a sunny day.

That smell has a name - petrichor. I wonder why other scents don't have names. The smell of new-mown grass, for example, is universally accepted as one of the most evocative scents and yet it doesn't have a name of its own

I have never smoked, but I cannot walk past a tobacconist shop. Not many around nowadays, but when I am in Manchester or Southport I always walk in and just take in that gorgeous aroma.

spadesclaret wrote:That smell has a name - petrichor. I wonder why other scents don't have names. The smell of new-mown grass, for example, is universally accepted as one of the most evocative scents and yet it doesn't have a name of its own

I don't like it as i have grass pollen hayfever. The first thoughts for me, when i smell cut grass are me hoping the anti-histamine works.

My garden smells of Jasmine and Lavender in the evening.

Foshiznik wrote:I don't like it as i have grass pollen hayfever. The first thoughts for me, when i smell cut grass are me hoping the anti-histamine works.

That is sad, Foshiznik.

Bodies

gastar melting over a piece of hot toast with a wheat field and aniseed drink and a wet dog....heavenly.

The smell of the hops from Thwaites as I headed home on the 150 Burnley from school in Blackburn.

If you live out in the sticks like me Cow S...

Or I could say where the Cows Clap

As a child grew up not far from Greenford in NW London.

When the wind was in the right direction you could smell the coffee being processed in the Lyons factory at Greenford.

Some days you could actually wake up and smell the coffee.

It is those precious early years when experiences are new that the senses are at their height, the wonderful sweet smell of daps, the heady scent of sweet peas, the gorgeous smells of the farmyard, the rich pungent smell of pigs, the dry acidic smell of couped up hens.
I was particularly fortunate as my father was a research chemist and loved producing exciting odours whenever he got the opportunity, nitrogen dioxide, phosgene, hydrogen sulphide, chlorine, hydrogen chloride, his passion was what he took in his nose, until he came behind a heavily laden vehicle on the Bwlch, when he rapidly had to double declutch (always a hair raising issue) and take in those noxious fumes which for some odd reason he never enjoyed.

The salty sea air as I cruise up Avenida Dos Descobrimentos on my big Yam.

Double de clutch. That has taken me back to being in my mates 1971 Ford Custom Cab and trying to get up steep hills. That term will baffle a few on here!

I love the smell of petrol from next doors barbecue.
It smells like...victory

"his passion was what he took in his nose,"

I know a few people like that.