My nose is fucking with me. Or maybe I'm pregnant. Either one.

Today I was at work and I could smell cake. It smelt really nice and vanilla-y. It might've been me that smelled of cake because I have a strange cakey-complex at the moment which means I have to make cakes whenever I'm in the kitchen, which, in this house, is about 1/5 of the time. Win. A big fat cakey win.

Then I was walking through town after I finally tracked down a driver's licence form and I swear I could smell coffee coming from a butcher's shop.

And then finally, when I was stood in the lighting... bit.. at Fibbers watching a band when my dad took over the lighting desk (he was in the support band, I did the lighting, swap, split the money, drinks all round) I turned to my dad with hope in my eyes and said:

"Dad? Do you smell cheese and onion pasties?"

He gave me a look like, oh you poor child. "Uhm. I think that's B.O. Nicky."

"Really?"

"Yeah.. it's hot in here."

Silence for a moment.. (apart from the metal band playing in the background) "Well shit, that's delicious."