Cheese and Onion Tuesday
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By Turlough
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Where I once lived the railway station
Unless my nostrils were mistaken
On Mondays smelt of smoky bacon
To blight my work-bound transportation
Passengers sniffing in dismay
Subjected to the strange bouquet
Of cheese and onion on Tuesday
Screamed ‘let’s depart without delay!’
Showing my ticket, I’d start to worry
Train doors slammed shut in such a hurry
Just a tad more fragrant than pig slurry
The Wednesday whiff of industrial curry
Each day a trauma more severe
Commuters’ minds all wracked with fear
Thursday’s lethal souvenir
Was a ketchup loaded atmosphere
On Fridays it came as no surprise
Bringing misery to the nose and eyes
The weekly bad aroma prize
Went to the evil stench of Scampi Fries
On the Harrogate to Knaresborough line
Beware the Starbeck station sign
A place deservedly much maligned
‘Cause its smell’s disgusting every time
Not far beyond the railway tracks
A plant performed most heinous acts
Producing chemicals in sacks
To flavour our potato snacks
A place that’s smelt but never seen
Clothing’s tainted, no longer clean
So folks will always know you’ve been
Near this deadly seasoning stink machine
Image:
My own photograph. This is how I imagined (because I had never seen it) the food flavouring factory in Starbeck in North Yorkshire would look. But really this is the Port of Gdańsk in Poland.
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Comments
Bent on putting people off
Bent on putting people off their food? People seem very varied in their sensitivity to scents and smells. When we used to pcinic when out walking my husband used to want me to sit down-wind when eating my much beloved banana as he said it flavoured whatever he was eating otherwise, and he still sometimes suffers when I have one at home!
what can be nice in small quantities, is overpowering if in high concentration!
Have factories cleaned up their smells as they cleaned up their effluents? Rhiannon
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"The Wednesday whiff of
"The Wednesday whiff of industrial curry"
Made me think of the HP Sauce factory in Aston not far from where I went to school. The stuff it belched out stank out the entire area.
I enjoyed that nasal trip down memory lane. As ever, nicely done Turlough.
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There was a 'flavourings'
There was a 'flavourings' factory near where I lived once and that wasn't pleasant, but nothing could quite beat a brewery and a lanolin factory (in different places thank goodness)for making me feel extremely queasy. The Lanolin factory was near where I lived when pregnant, so double queasy and sometimes pleasestopthecarsoIcanbesick queasy. So yes, thanks for the memories Turlough! : )
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Fags coloured my life. Sunday
Fags coloured my life. Sunday breakfast always a stink, but in a nice way.
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I loved this and I think we
I loved this and I think we all can sympathize with that stench of industry seasoning the air with unpalatable odors. Where I grew up there was a paper factory...enough said... and I loved your rhyming of each day’s pungent aroma and the shrewdly hidden factory at the end of your poem was brilliant. Very much enjoyed!
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HAHA, I'm not sure why I said
HAHA, I'm not sure why I said paper, it was a soap factory...and it was an awful smell.
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HI Turlough,
HI Turlough,
your poem reminded me of the first job I had in Clare Street just off Baldwin Street Bristol in 1970. I was in the vicinity of a beer making factory and had to work with the smell of hops brewing all day. It had a distinct aroma that I still recall to this day and it was always very heavy in the air, especially in Summer.
I like the rhythm and rhyme of your poem and the reminder of how aromas can stir memories.
Jenny.
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I seem to have missed a whole
I seem to have missed a whole 'Slough' of poems, like this one; and yes, it took a while before I realised what those smells signified! Nice on Thurlough! BTW, my wife once lived near the Mars factory, and they could smell the Mars Bars.
Dougie Moody
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