Over a small glass this early evening my partner asked me what I missed about UK. I found that what I missed was something evanescent. It was smells. For me the scent of flowering hawthorn in the Peak District's deep valleys, the scent of new mown grass and the scent of turf fires in the Highlands. The sense of smell is something which we tend to disregard but it is the one sense which anatomically is so close to our brain. If you've ever read Patrick Susskind's novel "Parfum" you will understand that proximity. So forget about sausages (posts passim) what are the smells which touch the deepest parts of your psyche?
Unfortunately me old Schnozzle ain't wot it used to be so most times I'm relieved if I can smell anything. Fortunately nature compensates & I can now read a car number plate at 1,000 metres ;-)
Das Parfum: Die Geschichte eines Mörders. Great book, I am lost on the topic though. I had my nose severely broken hooter, thus am the opposite to Grenouille. That is not to say I cannot smell but the sense is so weak that I have always got tasks that other people could not bear. It has also got me into some messes. As I said on another thread the other day, I walked into the 'waste' human and various animal matter beside a rice paddy. Had my olfactory senses functioned then that would never have happened. So I would love to have those senses but even mowing grass, as I did this evening, nada. My psyche is deprived; a smell! a smell! my sanity for a smell! O tempora o mores, I stand outside the world, my psyche deprived, it knows no smells.