You have to try this.
Clearing out under the sink (no I haven't had a sudden attack of domestication, I mean under duress, during the recent (recent?) and still ongoing works at this house in which we received not one but two new kitchens with another to come, plus four complete changes of counter top...)
To begin again.....
Clearing out under the sink, I found a great many pairs of rubber gloves, all used once, rinsed, and chucked in there for later. Obviously for many of them, later never came. Eventually they begin to perish and become tacky.
Christmas! When you were a kid, back in the days of single glazing; do you remember the week of Christmas? The warm, golden, even superheated few days when nobody seemed to go outdoors at all, when grown-ups wanted to include you in board games and you couldn't tell the pouring rain outside from the condensation on the windows, except by hiding behind the curtains and drawing smileys? That brief and heavenly period when the decorations were holding up and there was still a bowl of walnuts or satsumas to be found, to hold on your lap through The Wizard Of Oz or whatever Christmas movies they stuck on TV?
When absolutely everything was right with the world? When the bottom of the Quality Street or Roses tin still held three or four different types of chocolate in their tantalising brightly coloured wrappers, not just all the toffee pennies that granny couldn't get her teeth round any more?
Your loss. I can - at least I couldn't and wouldn't have tried, until I smelled a single, decaying rubber glove.
Now I can't stop sniffing it. It says: 'My mum's old front room, the wet Wednesday after Christmas, when the paraffin heater has been on the go all day and the compulsory balloons on the wall (twenty or more, in groups of at least three - start with the corners and the window) are beginning to droop.'
I never knew that magical moment smelled like perishing balloons, but I do now.
I think I'm going to like autumn more than usual, this year.