"People smell." Doug wiped his sweating face in his tee and made his announcement like he'd just discovered it.
Dead sheep lying on the heathland, eyeless, thin and scrawny. A few days later, they'd be fat, like they'd done nothing but eat - but it was all gas. Lob a sharp rock at them, stand well back and watch them explode. God, that smelled.
Tarmac, wet and bubbling, a smell I liked - but so hot you had to wear shoes... so your feet stank.
"Drains," I said.
"Old people's houses," Doug said, "When nobody's seen 'em around for ages."