How evocative are scents, whether they eminate from our favourite restaurant or the woods in which we love to while away the hours in the company of nature.

Whenever I walk past a branch of the UK-based chain, W H Smiths, the smell of books, newspapers and magazines tantalises my senses and thoughts of my late grandfather pop into my head. Every Saturday we would visit Smiths and my grandfather would purchase one or more children’s books. Being blind and unable to read print, it was a wonderful feeling to sit on my grandfather’s knee as he regailed me with the adventures of Enid Blyton’s Famous 5 or The Secret Seven. It was only many years later that I came to the realisation that he also made up tales with which to entertain me. One story I especially remember concerned a group of naughty gnomes who put glue on…