It Ain’t Just Bangers and Mash in Britain

One of the fun things about having lived in many places is that you get to know the food intimately. Add to that decades of cooking and fearless eating, some severe myopia and moderate deafness, and the result is an unusually acute sense of smell and taste. Should you be afraid? I used to be able to smell a flatmate approach my apartment door the second he was out of the elevator (he wasn’t particularly inoffensive-smelling) – it would hit my nose the very moment my cat’s ears would prick up in interest. Back when smoking in pubs was obnoxious but legal, I would be unable to get to sleep afterwards until I’d had a hot bath and washed and dried my hair twice. And, while pregnant, the mere suggestion of some scents would make me gag.



November 17, 2009. Tags: , . British, Musings, Stories. 3 comments.