Some British Nonscents

20160816_122011I am sitting in a sort of international hipster clubhouse. It’s a makeshift lean-to made of corrugated plastic and 3×3 poles. On two walls there is the old brick garden wall; on a third wall there is fishing net. Wooden pallets covered in old mattresses and blankets in twelve shades of brown make for a common seating area. Pillows cast about on the couches include a red double decker bus set against London in black and white, an American flag, and a moustache pillow with the words “HELLO HELLO” screen printed in black.

There are also touches from past guests cast about here and there: a St. Lucia flag, a pretty good painting of a beach far away, a pair of pyjama bottoms, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and a motivational poster that says “Happiness is Not a Destination, It Is a Way of Life.” Just below is a sticker that says “piss off.” On a makeshift clothing line, next to a pair of stretchy teal men’s undies is a shirt that says, “Living Super Since 1906.”

Thinking about that t-shirt, owned by a Romanian nuclear plant worker, makes me realize that I am probably allergic to Britain.

20160812_142625When you hear that, you might think of hay fever. Yes, that has happened to me. After almost two weeks of tramping through ruined castles, peaking through dusty church towers, and hiking through stone-fenced grasslands, my senses had had enough. I sat for a few minutes in the long dry grass beside Addison’s Walk at Magdalen College, and my head exploded. Punting on the Thames is challenging: it looked so easy when Dick Van Dyke pretended to do it in Mary Poppins. Doing it while sneezing and blowing my nose in Tesco toilet paper made it a whole new kind of tourist experience.

That night I fell asleep to some pill my wife gave me, hugging a box of Kleenex and dreaming of Oxford’s dreaming spires dripping in dew.

It is actually quite unusual for me to have any kind of natural allergy. I can think of only two other times I’ve had hay fever. Even the “cotton trees” of the prairies seemed to work with my bodily ecosystem. Perhaps that comes with growing up on a farm where we piled loose hay in great mounds to break our fall from ever increasing heights.

Honestly, I think in my heart, I have always looked down upon asthmatics just a little bit. I suppose that’s a funny kind of bigotry, but I’m working on it.

20160823_175820My natural resistance to things that make others sneeze all changed a few years ago. At that time I was running a car detailing business. I spent my days surrounded by scent. I purchased waxes, polishes, and cleaners that worked the best—we were a high-end joint—and that made my work more pleasurable. I still enjoy the smell of citrus oil, Poorboy’s wax, and the cherry soap my cousin mixed up for me.

I had scent-free customers. One dropped off a car, but could not come into the shop. Another sent her husband to get the car detailed whenever she went on a two-week holiday. She was so allergic to smells that they could not purchase a new car. The “new car smell”—really the carpet glue gassing off—sent her into agonies. I would clean the car with natural products that didn’t work as well, then leave the car in a cold place for two weeks. Another couple of weeks in the fresh air and she could drive it again.

Then, one day, it happened to me.

It was not long after I sold the business. I was at the gym and they were giving out samples of Axe Body Spray, also known as Liquid Satan for Guys Stupid Enough to Think This Will Help. I walked into the change room and nearly passed out. My head started to pound, my eyes watered, and I found it hard to catch my breath. I changed as quickly as I could and found my way to fresh air.

We all know that Axe is on the extreme end of the artificial scent spectrum, so I didn’t think much of it. That experience, though, was near the beginning of a long period of high scent sensitivity for me. I think my friends all knew I struggled with it, but I’m not sure how public that struggle was.

Church was especially painful for me. Walking in the sanctuary was like walking into a wall of pain. It was especially hard in winter when the windows were closed and the heat was cranked up. I sat on the edges or volunteered for the kid’s program. Not infrequently I would head outside and greet people coming in and out so I could avoid the main hall. I still do these things.

20160823_161220The scent problem has meant some career limits. I can’t teach English to foreign students. Cultures that value perfume and smoking as signs of manliness or prosperity create an environment that is just too much for me. I haven’t taught ESL for a decade now.

Mostly, I can adapt pretty well. There are certain scents that are okay with me, like citrus-based smells (which are cheap to produce without artificial chemical add-ins). Anything floral or in the classic perfume family will send me out to check the oil level in the car. I announce to my students that there is someone with a scent allergy in the class and remind them about what they can do to adjust. And we have adapted our family perfumes to reduce smells as much as possible.

So what has this got to do with a hipster clubhouse in Great Britain? Actually, it’s the “super” t-shirt and the teal tighties. I can smell them from across the garden.

20160821_165640Not a bad smell. I am at a hostel—hence the clubhouse—and staying in a dorm room filled with European men. Bad smells aren’t really the issue.

It’s the detergent he used to wash the shirt and the dandy teal undies that is the issue. It is probably called “Mountain Breeze” or “Seascape Pantomime” or something, an aroma to give the laundry that clean-fresh manufactured scent commercials tell us we love. It smells great to most people, but it makes my head swim.

Which is why I might be allergic to Britain. Sidewalks here swarm with cigarette smoke. Every shopping area has an import perfume bar, with happy tourists spritzing here and there. Instead of dealing with mould in a house, locals use scent to cover it up. And then there are the normal parts of life in a community: car fumes, shampoos and deodorants, dish soap, flower gardens, leather treatments, insense, rubber tires, and freshly cut lawns. Many of these are wonderful, evocative scents, but there is a group for whom daily life with them can be a struggle.

20160819_131150For the most part I have been pretty good. Three or four days ago I found the full day’s experience a bit much. I had to do some laundry, and went into the common area of my Oxford guest house to wash the clothes. The smell of the detergent, fries (chips) boiling in an open pot, the perfumes of the people gathered there, the close smell of garbage in a kitchen that needs windows … it was overwhelming. I grew dizzy, my head pounded, and I fled. A few hours later, in the dark and cool of my room, the ibuprofen started to work.

I’m pretty luck, actually. I can eat most anything while my friends are allergic to everything from grains to milk to fruit to any food that casts a shadow on the autumnal equinox. There are people allergic to hair or their own skin. Some get hay fever so awful that they go to sleep in March and wake up in late November.

So, I think I will deal with it the best I can. I may ask the macho man from Hungary in my room if he could body spray out in the hall. But I think I can tough it out. I’ll probably hang out here in the club house until the nuclear plant workers come out to smoke. The teal underpants are actually starting to grow on me.

That wasn’t an ideal way of putting it, was it?

Note: the photographs are just pictures of signs I took that I thought were interesting. Don’t read to much into them.

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About Brenton Dickieson

“A Pilgrim in Narnia” is a blog project in reading and talking about the work of C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and the worlds they touched. As a "Faith, Fantasy, and Fiction" blog, we cover topics like children’s literature, apologetics and philosophy, myths and mythology, fantasy, theology, cultural critique, art and writing. This blog includes my thoughts as I read through Lewis and Tolkien and reflect on my own life and culture. In this sense, I am a Pilgrim in Narnia--or Middle Earth, or Fairyland. I am often peeking inside of wardrobes, looking for magic bricks in urban alleys, or rooting through yard sale boxes for old rings. If something here captures your imagination, leave a comment, “like” a post, share with your friends, or sign up to receive Narnian Pilgrim posts in your email box. Brenton Dickieson is a father, husband, friend, university lecturer, and freelance writer from Prince Edward Island, Canada. You can follow him on Twitter, @BrentonDana.
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15 Responses to Some British Nonscents

  1. Brenton, I don’t know about Britain but I am allergic to Oxford. I have spent two summers there and I always start with cold-like symptoms and end up with bronchitis. I’m pretty sure it’s because the whole city is so ancient–part of what I love about it–that it is moldering into dust.

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  2. L.A. Smith says:

    Wow, excited for you that you are in Oxford! But allergies are no fun…I hope you can power through with the appropriate medication and enough “fresh” air to get you through without too much pain.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Kent says:

    I’m wary of giving advice when not asked, but here goes: these following doctors (all MDs) have helpful information about a more natural-oriented approach to treating allergies: Dr. Joseph Mercola, Dr. Ray Sahelian, and Dr. Andrew Weil. At Google, type in “allergies” and then the doctor’s name, and various articles will come up. Also, on a deeper level, Henry W. Wright looks at fear as a trigger for the cascade of neuro-immunological hormones and factors in the body leading to allergic symptoms.

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    • Like, are they local doctor’s names?
      Fear is interesting. There are animals that sneeze when afraid, I heard.

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      • Kent says:

        Hi Brenton. Please forgive me for trying to offer advice. Kent

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        • No worries. I hope my quick answer didn’t look like a slight of any kind. By “local” I simply meant here in Great Britain.

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          • Kent says:

            Brenton. Thanks for your reply. Perhaps I should have clarified that I am a General Practice physician. I work in a part of the world which was formally a protectorate of the United Kingdom. The doctors I referred to all practice in the USA, but have an international readership via their websites.

            In other matters, a few months ago I was shocked to learn, for the first time, from my elderly mother a story about her father (my grandfather) who died before I was born. When my grandfather was a young man, he watched his mother be burnt alive in the family home. He was out on the ground, and his mother threw his baby sister out the upstairs window into his arms, and then she was engulfed in the fire and perished. When I read your blog post from a while back wherein you described the tragedy in your family, it really affected me. Now I maybe now why– because it my family there was also such a story lurking in background which I did not know about until just recently. It was like some embers from that part of the past were fanned into flame for a moment for me to realize what had happened. Kent

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            • Thanks for telling your story Kent. That is a powerful story. Just yesterday, I actually wrote in my journal about “fanning into flame….” The image of the phoenix remains an important part of my life (my son and I are designing a coat of arms, and it will have to have a phoenix–out of the ashes….).
              And thanks for the medical note. All kinds of people offer advice; generally it is well given. Honestly, it was a framework shift for me. I never even thought of “scent sensitivity” as treatable. I simple adjust my life.

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  4. wanderwolf says:

    A lot of interesting signs. I like to look at those when abroad, too. They’re sights just as much as everything else.
    My mother is allergic to most perfumes and chemicals as well… Gets awful migraines. I have to admit, it’s rough as a daughter to watch all the shampoos, soaps, deodorants, nail polish I use, but we do what we can to help those we love ( and people in general) avoid pain.
    One thing that helps is making sure you have water to drink after being exposed to some scent…

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  5. David Llewellyn Dodds says:

    I’m not sure if it’s where I first met it, but I have a vivid recollection of an Algernon Blackwood preface (I think to The Tales of Algernon Blackwood (1938) ) written in old age where he said (in effect), if it was true that all our cells were replaced every seven years, it was physically at least a very different he who had written the stories selected there – some from more than 4 ‘cell cycles’ earlier. Apparently this is not true, but, for whatever reasons, with the passage of years, people sometimes not only develop new allergies, but existing allergies can grow weaker – such at least seemed to be my mother’s experience. So, here’s hoping! (She had to take a lot of antihistamine, which could make for drowsy travel experiences where pollens were different or simply abundant… I think of a boat trip down the Thames in August…)

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