I associate the aroma with grass track racing. Wasp sidecar outfits with 1000cc V-twin Westake and Godden engines thundering round a field sending up flumes off grass and soil and the air thick with the smell of Gastrol R and hot engines. (And fag smoke and burgers). Magical.
People who stop on stairways in corridors when there’s plenty of space for you to both pass and making an exaggerated bowing/spread arms gesture as they do it so they can make it clear what an enormous courtesy they’ve made for you and that their manners are much better than yours because you didn’t do it.
To think I thought they were just being friendly and nice! Now I know they are being bastards I'll head butt anyone who does this for me...
For my sins I had 4 hours driving up and down the M6, still shouting at drivers who brake for no reason, drivers who pull into your lane then slow down, and general f#cktards who obtained a driving licence from the back of a cornflake packet. And who the hell stops on the A66 to allow a cyclist across. Dearie me I actually had to reuse some swear words today.
