Smell that switch

Smell is a sense that can easily evoke a memory. For me, a scent can trigger a visual memory. If I smell it, I see it.  I’ve always known I was odd. Not in any terrible way but from and early age I was aware that I noticed things that other people didn’t. 

The moment that my mum pointed out that other people can’t see headaches was a shock. 

“What do you mean, you can’t see my headache? I can see yours it’s over that eye, which is strange because it’s normally the other side. Anyway, can’t you smell it?”

I learnt quite quickly that these odd noticings weren’t something you talk about but sometimes they just hit you between the eyes and you forget. This is particularly true of smells. I probably smell more than you do.

Actually, I’m certain I smell terrible because the dog still leaves the room whenever I sit down (except when I’m doing yoga). I know that my skin always has a faint whiff of chlorine but the dog even left the room in lockdown while the pools were closed.

Although my super sensitive nose is a weird thing I don’t think it’s a particular problem. Okay, it was a little tricky when I was pregnant and became a factor when I went bonkers but I’m not hallucinating smells and it’s not just horrible smells, although M&S in town has a whiff that shouldn’t be associated with a food shop.

I can tell when someone near me has a wood burner going. I can smell when they harvest the wheat. Some days I can smell fish on the wind and then the sky fills with gulls. 

Because this has happened since I was very little (probably birth) I’ve not had them all named. I remember the shock I felt when I smelt a bottle of Mitsuko perfume because that’s how I thought lipstick smelled.

I’m not someone that likes unperfumed soap because then you can smell the fat. The days of hand sanitiser are causing me a few problems because the visual images they trigger are of hospitals and things I’d rather not remember.

I’ve just confessed to all this and realise that I sound totally mad. Normal people don’t do this, surely? But it’s not all bad. 

For the last week the telecoms company have been in school putting in better cables. When the government could close the school at any moment, having a working internet system is important. You see the men on ladders or scrunched up in a corner, with their meters, testing the switch. 

“Oh, wow! Smell that!” I said as I walked past one.

He looked at me quizzically, as I was transported back to my youth. My Dad had just arrived home and was taking off his motorcycle jacket. He beamed and told me about his day.

The engineer coughed.

“Oh, the smell? Well, it smells like telephone exchanges.”

I took another breath in and was transported to Blackmore telephone exchange and long summer holidays filled with freedom and learning the resistor colour code (BBROYGBVGW).

“I used to think it was electricity. It’s similar to what you get if you stick your nose in the plug socket but less fishy and more like hay. Not the hay you get from rabbits cages but the hay that is round the strawberries.”

I should have stopped at telephone exchanges. The engineer was looking at me with a face that said, “They let these people teach our children.”

“I only teach music,” I blurted out and scuttled on past, leaving him staring at me, open mouthed.