Sister Of Flying Pig had developed a pungent smell. It was traced to the rubber surrounding the driver's side window. It smelt like last night's garlic prawns at the local Spanish Tapas Bar.
I hadn't noticed it for the past few months. But today, it is back.
Now all buses develop their own character and distinctive smell over time. None have ever had this aroma of stale cooking. Maybe it is the result of a chemical reaction. Perhaps it is the rain. Or perhaps there is the slimmest chance that someone could have rubbed some garlic sauteed prawn heads into the rubber.
Food is visible at many points along the route. 'Take-Away Corner', an attractive wooded corner near a river has been littered with polystyrene fast food boxes. There are half eaten sausages, pizzas, floppy batter and congealed chips. The standard could not have been good the previous night, necessitating the hurling of polystyrene out of passing car windows.
Ah those searching the bracing air of the countryside on the morning dew, should beware.
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