The smells of Gloucester past

When I was a lad (that's a surprise already, me being old enough to

start a piece like that!), the Gloucester I recall could be mapped by its characteristic

smells. Maybe these were not unique to the city, and certainly not particular to

the era - history will show that the early-to-mid nineteen-eighties is when

many of their sources actually began to disappear - but nevertheless, I do

have some very fond and rather less fond memories of Gloucester's various

odours.

There is little more evocative than a distinctive smell. Probably only

hearing a certain song or piece of music has more power to transport someone

back to a time and place. I have always been considered to have a 'good nose',

so it may be that this is even more pertinent to me.

As a child, walking into town via Barton and Eastgate Streets, the first

stop was often a proper hardware shop (the kind made extinct by B&Q). As

soon as I entered the shop with my dad, the smell was unmistakable and yet the

result of such a cacophony of different items, materials and chemicals that it

was hard to place any one of them. Wood, ironmongery, fertiliser, creosote,

rubber, plastic, sandpaper, plant seeds, you name it. I spent what seemed like

hours in there looking through everything, as my father was served by the

proprietor or his assistants, all of whom were men wearing those long coats and

a shirt and tie.

Further on down Barton Street was Wager's, a baker's shop. I can still

smell those fresh, warm dripping cakes being delivered in metal trays of a

Saturday morning, I believe from Spark's bakery just around the corner. This

time, we can thank Tesco's and the like for the loss of these gems, although

they do still manage to have supermarkets and fantastic high street bakeries

(patisseries) in France.

Over Barton gates and the smell of chlorine as one walked past the old

leisure centre was unmistakable. On a cold day, I remember feeling the heat

from the huge Barton pool escaping through the windows (probably not very

energy efficient back then), and the sign that read 'Come on in, the water is

warm'.

Into town itself, and the smells were even more distinctive and

memorable. The amazing aroma of roasting coffee beans in St Aldate Street, the

sweetness of the tobacconist in Westgate Street, the wonderful fresh fish stall

in Eastgate Market, and the delicious frying of fish and chips in Hare Lane (those

latter two still very much alive today). I will even mention the underground toilets

in both Eastgate Market and King's Square – bear with me on this – they smelled

strongly of bleach and disinfectant, so much so that it stung my young eyes and

took my breath away. Not only were there still public toilets back then, but

they were also continually attended, which is probably why they were so clean.

Instead of today's awful reek of fresh smoke as smokers congregate in

the doorways, the pubs back then smelled of stale beer, at least from outside –

a smell I have always liked. A smell – actually more of a vile stench – I can

perhaps recall more than any other in my Gloucester childhood was the infamous 'Westgate

Smell', which came from James Williamson & Co., the tallow chandlers and

soap boilers. The first time I ever experienced it, I swear I retched and

heaved uncontrollably as my dad tried not to laugh whilst leading me back

eastwards.

I am sure others will recall different smells from the same and other

eras, but that is the end of my journey of Gloucester odours from the early

nineteen-eighties.