I stretched and I yawned as I grudgingly crept out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. As I entered I was hit with a wave of strong and heavenly aromas of freshly brewed coffee and slightly burned toast. The coffee machine gurgled and burped as its delicious dark liquid slowly filled the container below. Then the toaster snapped up sending the toast virtually flying. Those favourite smells in the morning which augur you well for the rest of the day.

My wife was slightly in a hurry, as she had errands to do and was already dressed to go out. As I approached her lovely made-up face for a good morning kiss, I caught a whiff of her favourite perfume, which had also long become mine. I breathed it in with intent. There’s nothing that can instinctively bind you more to your loved ones than the frangrance of the perfume they wear.

I went back to my bedroom to get dressed and as I opened the wardrobe I was immediately greeted by smells of soap and fabric softener and mild lavender and fresh linen. I stroked some new sheets, feeling their pleasing texture and enjoyed that smell of freshness they emitted.

Quite a difference, I reminisced, from my grandma’s old wooden wardrobe, which when creaked open used to slap you in the face with the pungent smell of moth balls, hidden in between those old, thick furry coats.

Into the bathroom I went, which had just been washed with that very distinctive smell of Dettol. There on the tiled floor still lied the bucket of murky water, with floorcloth inside, reeking of that most common of disinfectants.

On my way out I said bye to the children. Our daughter was preparing for school. As she was closing her satchel I got closer and I could instantly recognise those typical smells of new copybooks and eraser rubber, which reminded me too of my own school days from way back.

Last was the baby, who was barely awake. He smiled with those lovely innocent eyes as I reached out and slowly lifted him towards me. As I brought his little body next to mine I caught a whiff of that gorgeous baby smell, of milk and of talc and of creams and pure babiness, compelling me to stick my nose onto his sparsely haired head and very delicately kiss the soft spot of his open fontanelle, while filling my lungs with his sweet baby smell.

I finally left home and jumped into my brand new car, purposely sniffing at that inimitable odour that only the interior of a new vehicle can give. I even kept the windows shut for a while to get my fill of what somehow signifies luxury and opulence to me.

I stopped at the service station and once I got the pump going I was hit by that strong penetrating smell of petrol as it gurgled down into the tank. The fumes were so potent that after a while I had to slightly move my head away to get some fresh air.

As I drove along the Coast Road – before our moronic authorities built that horrible wall all along it which now ruins all sight and smell – I noticed that there was a rather big swell. Waves came crashing down onto the rocks below me, depositing sand and seaweed and foam. This generated huge whitish clouds of invigorating spray, laden with saltiness, iodine and seaweed scents.

That evening I decided to go for a short country walk in the fields, many of which had just been covered in manure. Intense musky odours of fresh dung emanated from all around me, which in spite of being somewhat overbearing, I cannot say I didn’t enjoy.

As I walked further I passed several fig trees giving off that distinctive Summer flavour which only fig trees can do. I approached and touched their coarse furry leaves and sniffed at my fingers for good measure.

Then I passed a large farmhouse with high walls all around. They were all covered with large creepers which were all in full bloom. There was honeysuckle and jasmine and stephanotis, all letting off lovely floral and sweet fragrances which graced anyone who walked past. You just couldn’t help taking in long deep breaths to regal yourself to the full.

On my way home I managed to dodge a small field which had just burnt in the Summer heat. Much of it was still smouldering with little plumes of smoke carrying whiffs of scorched burnt grass, burning my nose and hitting my lungs yet so pleasing in a rather odd way.

This contrasted sharply with the last villa I crossed where the luscious lawn was just being mowed. Hmm that green, chlorophyll smell of freshly cut grass in the air, accompanied by the loud buzzing sound of the relevant machinery hard at work.

I finally got home and settled down with a lovely glass of red wine. Its enchanting and complex bouquet of grapes and spice and berries filled my nose and my spirit with delight.

So I grabbed an old book which I couldn’t help sniff, to catch that musky, dusty and somewhat sweet smell of the brown old worn out pages. I then picked up a brand new colour magazine with its young aggressive adhesive odour jumping out of its glossy and shiny pages.

It suddenly started to rain after so many weeks of dry weather. So I couldn’t resist going outside in the garden to get great earthy whiffs of wet soil. It always reminds me of September and when school started again at the beginning of Autumn.

But it was getting late, so I blew out the candles and just lingered on to catch that special scent which they slowly let off into the room around, reminding me of churches and crypts and religious ceremonies, along with the incense that comes with that clicking chain sound.