A man working at a computer in a school today, became acutely aware of a smell of vomit that smacked him in the face like a steel ball hammer, and sent him scurrying from the scene like the waiter in the Mr. Creosote sketch.
Moys Kenwood, 55, was minding his own business when, all of a sudden, the immediately-recognizable reek of spew wafted his way, and enveloped him in its anti-fragrance.
Time seemed to stand still.
The odor, creeping, all-pervading, insidious, and evil, moved through the air around him like a Scottish mist, crawling over him, surrounding him in a vice-like grip, and very nearly choking him.
What had the poor, unfortunate little boy or girl eaten to dredge such an unearthly hum from its guts?
It was then that Kenwood vaguely remembered, through the mists of time, a similar smell that refused to be forgotten, that reminded him of his own 1970s schooldays at Wold Road Infant School - the offensive stench of a child having brought up its school dinner, and the use of sawdust to smother the resultant pong.
A further 'whiff of sick' yanked him back into the present. In front of him, slopping this way and that with her filthy mop was the school cleaner. Here was the culprit.
Her grizzled face and unkempt hair spoke of a history of cleaning floors, not to mention a future of the same humdrum task, and the air, Kenwood realized, was being polluted by the very thing that was supposed to be 'cleaning' the floor.
He felt himself wanting to wretch - on two counts, smell and face - and opened a window to breathe in the fresh polluted air from outside.