Perfume Ponce

Today reality imitates art as Richard E Grant officially becomes a 'perfumed ponce' with the launch of his first

Essence of Petunia

scent.  He's been busy with PR, and I've read several interviews detailing his life as an ardent nose - sniffing everything from old exercise books to narcissi.  As a fellow nose, I understand this.  I think I care about smell more than most. I have even broken off associations on the basis that someone smells wrong.  Not necessarily bad, just wrong. To me.  Similarly, I occasionally find people who smell right.  Not necessarily perfumed, just right.  To me.

Handily close

I am free for the first day in months, and the air is full of cherry blossom, magnolia and hyacinth.  Closer to the market, it's bacon - from the breakfast van that serves early morning rolls to the traders.  Frying bacon in fresh air always makes me think of Glastonbury - mingling with wood smoke and crushed grass and grass smoke.  Undercut by the impressive tang of the long-drops.  Pity the foolish virgins who think they've bagged a good spot, conveniently close to conveniences.  I love the pace of festival mornings, as people emerge bleary-eyed, croaky-throated, in search of tea.  I've no interest in boiling under nylon, so I'm up and out, watching the site come to life.  

No tickets this year.  Having to make do with an alternative.  Here's hoping it smells right.  Not wrong.