Off on the road again, and smelling like a tart’s boudoir…

…It’s been a while. Over a year, in fact. This doesn’t mean that I’ve been sitting at home ironing (I guess some people sit when they iron but not me). I’ve been to Las Vegas, Red Rock, New Orleans, Lisbon, Glastonbury, Brighton. But it’s been a while since I’ve travelled alone. So today, I’m off to Krakow, Poland.

To get to Krakow I have to first run the gauntlet of duty free at East Midlands Airport. And perfume.

I don’t smell. What I mean is, I don’t smell of anything with a brand name attached to it. I don’t wear perfume. No one ever bought me any – and I guess that’s where most women’s first experience of perfume comes from – the Anais Anais in the white bottle with a pretty flower as a birthday or Christmas gift. However, no one ever bought me any perfume. Maybe I just wasn’t seen as “girly” enough. My daughters both wear perfume. And my grandmother distinctly smelt of eau de something from Avon. But for me, it’s always been soap and water. And an unperfumed deoderant. Obviously.

I have a very strong sense of smell. I am short sighted and ever so slightly deaf in both ears. However I can smell the change in seasons, the sadness in people’s hearts and my hamster’s cage before I even get in the house.

So walking through Duty Free to get to the Escape Lounge at the airport is an assault. Particularly at 04.30. And it’s hideous.

Why do people want to smell of these vile, chemical concoctions? None of them smell pleasing. None of them smell of sheets that have been dried in the wind on a summer’s day, or freshly mown grass, or a frosty morning. They are sweet, sickly and over ripe. And that’s just the aftershave…

 

 

 

 

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Author: awidowswanderings

I became a widow at the ripe old age of 40. It wasn't expected and it changed my life. Ignore the Kubler-Ross 5 stages of grief. It doesn't work. She also forgot about the stage where you develop an irresistible urge to run. I thought I'd fill the gap. I've been a widow for nearly 6 years now. Except I'm no longer alone. I have a widower love to travel the road with me. Two wanderers. Two wonderers. Two colossal sets of baggage. And four dogs...

1 thought on “Off on the road again, and smelling like a tart’s boudoir…”

  1. Hi there,
    Just to let you know I really enjoyed your posts and felt heartfelt empathy with you every step of the way.
    I am also a widow and have experienced the same longings and loneliness on my travels.
    Best wishes
    Aine

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