The curse of smell
Because indeed it can be a curse at times – what a thing for an aromatherapist to say – but I have just spent the last few days seeing how long I can hold my breath as I scoot from one place to the next. Hey yes – you guessed, I am back in Dudley. The smell hits me as soon as I get off the train – a mix of fried food and curry. Not that bad but not welcoming either.
This time however I was staying at a different hotel – a most obvious downgrade from my usual one. I missed the front door (obviously never heard of Feng Shui) and so my first introduction to the place was a strong smell of stale beer as I made my way via the pub part of the hotel, then a cloying, deep fried food smell as I trotted through the restaurant and finally cheap fake room fragrance as I staggered into the reception. Then down a labyrinth of shabby halls to find my room. One hall stunk of old cigarette smoke but the rest had varying degrees of nasty room fragrance, chemically and over powering – yet not quite over powering enough to disguise the underlying, all pervasive smell of fried oil.
By the time I got to my room I was feeling a little ill and most certainly was not looking forward to staying here. But stay I did. Three nights. Never got used to the smell. No matter what I ordered it was tainted with that oily smell too – it got into everything. So there – it can be a bit of curse if you have a sensitive snout. I am sure I reek too now – I leave this evening and imagine as I hit London that people will eye me up and think, yep she’s just come from Dudley…. give me my wood smoke and mountain air….
