Archives for posts with tag: Morning

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.

The man in the shop at 8.30 this morning looked pretty smart. He was wearing designer jeans, a thin trendy jumper and black-rimmed glasses. I liked his style – he was sporting the same ‘Norwegian Fisherman’ beard that I have. I stood behind him in the queue; all he bought was a bottle of Listerine. Close up, I noticed that his jumper had several holes in the back and there was a strong musty smell coming off him. When I left the shop, I drove past him round the corner. He was hiding behind a phone box, gulping down the mouthwash.

 

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