Burning Sensation

There are certain smells and faint memories of a barely recognisable atmosphere that transport you back to your childhood immediately.

Close you eyes in such circumstances and it is easy to time travel to the inquisitive state of mind that was your earliest and formative years. Shampoo and bath products for infants have not really changed much in the last 50 years and as a parent to your own offspring the scent of lavender in bubble bath and the unmistakable odour of Johnson's baby shampoo are instant recollections. Coal Tar Soap is another recognisable smell from perhaps a grandparents house or the more pretentious Imperial Leather, complete with embedded motif which was always a challenge to prise out at bathtime.

Bleach and Dettol were always present in early childhood in the home environment and in school and other public buildings including the fairly regular trips to the casualty department of the local infirmary. The toilet block at my first Infant School was a flint embedded outhouse on the far side of the playground. In all and any weathers the need to just go outweighed any potential fear of developing hypothermia. The smell of damp and stiff Izal lavatory paper is one that sticks with you for your whole life.

There are of course the given smells of the seasons. At Christmas, cinnamon and the pine scent from a real tree, Spring is the time for the first grass cut and daffodils, hot Summer air and barbecues, Autumn fusty leaves and the first nostril flaring snaps of frost.

People leave a trail of memory scents which even after their  passing can lead to a second glance into a room or a quick look up from a book or magazine as though the loved one has just breezed by. This may be a specific brand of perfume from 70's Tweed to 80's Charlie or the timeless Chanel or the more persistent Brut now largely confined to the back of millions of wardrobes, Old Spice and Kouros.

The memory trails of domestic smells are however under threat of eradication by automatic and motion operated air fresheners. The musty and heavy condensation of the early morning , cooking smells from toast to a roast, damp and conditioned laundry, furniture polish and a new leather upholstered suite. My strongest memory is from the age of about 4 or 5. It was a winters day with a thick layer of snow when we dropped my older sister off at her Junior school. I walked with my mother, although mainly in single file,on the way home through the narrow snow cleared corridors of the pavement towards the local shops . The heavy, cold air was thick with the smell of smoke.

Not the pleasant woodsmoke or coal fire type but a more chemically and indistinct and pungent odour. As we neared the parade of shops I could see a number of fire engines, exciting to a kid anyway, but with a full network of snaking hoses and firemen running about carrying equipment adding to the scene. The packed snow and ice around the engines and across the forecourt to the shops was melting and releasing a low set steamy mist as though a stage-show. The whiteness on the ground and up into the low cloud cover ,was flecked with soot and debris. We stood and watched the activity but we had missed the main event of our Co-Operative Store burning to the ground. The smell of that event is embedded in my memory perhaps compounded by the accommpanying sights and sounds but nevertheless so very real and fresh.