After four days of traveling on the tube to work in the morning, I’ve taken to listening to the Cocteau Twins and napping. When the train pulls in, I’m so tired that I can barely open my eyes so I navigate the approach to the ticket barriers using smell. The freshly showered and groomed commuters give off aromas of aftershave and perfume – there’s a waft of a familiar shampoo, the occasional trace of minty toothpaste.
It’s a stark contrast to the journey home on a red-hot spring day during rush hour. Then there’s an entirely different set of smells.