Last week our central heating came on in the mornings for the first time in months. As I got ready to go to work on Monday morning, keeping quiet so not to wake anyone up, I walked into the lounge and was greeted by the smell of hot radiators. I’m not sure what causes the smell; I imagine it’s dust and cobwebs being slowly baked, so let’s not dwell on it.
That smell instantly transported me back to my childhood, padding downstairs in my pajamas during the Christmas holidays, through the half-light to turn on the Christmas tree lights and bask in the post-seventies multicoloured psychedelic glow. I loved the way the lights played off the tinsel and baubles like a thousand stars. I wonder when I stopped noticing things like that?
What is it about smell that makes it evoke such strong memories?
I think that the smell-bone is connected to the memory-bone. Or that’s what they taught us at medical school, anyway.