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Smell is so powerful, you know. My grannies would both bake things like shortbreads and cookies. I think whenever I smell those kinds of things it really takes me back to my childhood.

When I think of my childhood, I see my mother, the complete sixties parent, decked in purple frappe silk caftans, the acidic smell of newly stripped pine mingling with incense.

The smell of pine needles, spruce and the smell of a Christmas tree - those to me, are the scents of the holidays.

Childhood smells of perfume and brownies.

Smelling a crayon takes you right back to childhood. When I need to go back in time, I put it under my nose and take another hit.

My childhood memories seem to be wreathed in the twin and far from harmonious olfactory sensations of patchouli oil and caustic soda.

When you have children, your house smells very unpleasant all the time.

My mother worked in a chocolate factory, so when I came home from school, I had a piece of baguette with dark chocolate in it. I remember her smelling like chocolate.

I love the smell of a real Christmas tree - also, my mum's Christmas pudding with brandy sauce.

I found one remaining box of comics which I had saved. When I opened it up and that smell came pouring out, that old paper smell, I was struck by a rush of memories, a sense of my childhood self that seemed to be contained in there.