there was a perfectly good explanation

When we took Nicky's parents' old telly to the tip today I thought the disgusting smell was just the tip, forgetting that there was an abattoir next-door. Very similar to the smell you sometimes get next to a bin down a close beside the rear door of a restaurant which has recently thrown out some gone-off meatstuffs. Can't be very nice for anyone living nearby, whereas the vague occasional smell of Seafield's sewage-treatment-in-action is quite tolerable in comparison.

I had to wear a shirt and trousers in the car on the way back as we were popping to a party for one of Nicky's baby-group people's kids in the cakearium attached to Church Hill Theatre. Considering the care which has gone into making the wide variety of cake available it's odd that sandwiches are treated with such throwaway disdain as to be unlabelled so that everyone had to peel them apart and sniff them to work out what was in them. Reasonable coffee for a place which seems more tea-centred (to the extent of fetishising the whole business with novelty knitted tea-cosies) but the two-piece band playing was somewhere on the dreadful side of appalling, and were only tolerable for their in-the-club-style treble-free incomprehensibility.