Anyone who’s grown up in Adelaide knows it’s a city of smells. This occurred to me today on my morning walk, a waft of diesel from a delivery van, and a happy rush because as a child diesel meant buses, and buses meant excursions, and excursions meant no maths. Me there, in Mr Meus’s classroom, smelling his cologne. Or beside Karim, starting on a mettwurst sandwich.
— Read more at A whiff of Adelaide’s history at The Adelaide Review.