I'm not sure if I was very unlucky yesterday to be in various predicaments where I was nasally assaulted. It seemed like there was that definite tang of sweaty feet and armpits hitting my nose. You don't want a nose full of feet and armpits. That's for sure. At some point I started to wonder whether, in fact, it was me that stank the place out, and that everyone else was the victim.

I still don't know.

I don't think I'd done too much to bring the smells out. I did walk to the station, but apart from getting a little damp around the back, I don't think it brought out the smell devils.

Entering the family carriage on the train came with an odour - which may have been parents, kids, stress and pasties. It also taught me something. I was starting to get the impression that little girls are sweet creatures. Experience with my niece and the child of friends this weekend had solidified my feeling that young female children are all angels. Then... well, the only way I can describe the whinging beast I was sharing a table with in that carriage was that she was a "little bitch". This is probably a product of her stuck-up bitch of a mother.

At some point during the gig I was at last night, I was convinced that that odour was hitting my nose again. I couldn't put my finger on it. And even if I could, who wants a finger on an odour? That would be, at the very least, quite gooey.

Then on the train back from the gig, I was, again aware of something tangy in my nose. Perhaps the girl I was sitting next to, who had been at some sort of festival, and was a little of a "crusty" was to blame.

I think it might have been me.

I showered thoroughly.

Fat people sweat and smell. This is true. I am losing weight (3 pounds this week), so surely I should be sweating and smelling less. Having said that, Glastonbury will threaten all of these things.

I'd better get some ear plugs for my nose.