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The sun is shining and the temperatures are rising, summer has finally arrived in Dublin. No one knows how long it will stay, so everyone is trying to make the most of it. Winter-coats have made way to t-shirts and skimpy dresses, midriffs are no longer blue from the cold winds but a pale white or a bright fake tan orange, as are the goose-pimpled legs and sunglasses never leave peoples noses.

But when the sun comes out to play here in Dublin she does tend to have a little friend tag along in her wake … odour. The canals start to whiff, the lovely river Liffey sparkles and gives off a slightly funky fishy smell. People on the Luas stand with raised arms and malodorous aromas wafts around your nose and the bins on the street do their own bit of stinking in the sun.

But the two things that really aggravate my nose are those weird, unexplained plastic bags filled with who knows what that suddenly appear beside benches, under bridges and sometimes on the middle of the street exuding rancid smells and the smell of old urine coming from some small alleys and corners beside bars. The plastic bags I cannot explain but how the urine stains appear on walls and paths is quite clear. I really just don’t understand why men think it is okay to pee on the street, just because they can doesn’t mean they should.

But even if my nose is at times offended by the bouquet of summer smells I do love the fact that I can swap shoes for sandals, display my chalky legs in the hope they’ll turn beige and not have to worry about umbrellas poking in my eyes. So as I lather up with suncream and undress as much as I dare I look forward to braving the smells of summer in the city and hope I don’t burn.

 

 

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