Of all the senses it can be the most banal and the most poetic. The sense of smell: there are times when we could happily do without it, as parents of young children don't need reminding. But smell can also give us some of our most intense moments: recalling suddenly that certain day in the playground, with the smell of rain on asphalt; the promise when you unscrew the coffee-jar; the scent of salt water after a winter in the inner city.
People have always gone a bit nutty about smells. Elizabethan women used to peel apples, stick them under their armpits for a few days and then present them to their lovers, who'd wear the things round their necks. So much for Shakespeare in Love. Then there was the French decadent, nearer the mark, who fantasised about a whole symphony of smells, built up with scores of little glass bottles, to inhale one after another. Today, you can buy atomiser sprays that fill your house with the smell of new bread, or coffee, or cinnamon. They are marketed for people trying to sell their homes, after research showed the price you fetch depends a lot on ambience. And some companies have now found out that peppermint wakes you up - so they're spraying it around the office.
My tip is this. Never underestimate how smell can change your mood. And act accordingly. Most of us have little bottles of cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, vanilla essence and rosemary kicking around the kitchen - as well as coffee, oranges and bread and, upstairs, perfumes and aftershave. Then there are the other free smells we often take for granted - a child's hair, freshly cut grass, a newly ironed shirt. Sometimes that extra little luxury is waiting for you, right there under your nose.
