When I was in Hieton Writers Group ( Hamilton)  many moons ago, I remember someone saying how vivid memories are, when evoked by our sense of smell.
Well, today as I took out my bike from the garage, I caught a distinct whiff of creasote !
This took me back to my childhood and my Grandpa's shed which held his own higgledy- piggledy hardware shop. That tarry smell on saturated wooden slats makes me nostalgic...wish I'd been naughtier than my cousins and hosed them back with the water on the huge lawn on hot summer days. But I was one of the youngest and they were all bigger and English !?

My loving Grandpa always called me a "meddlar" because I loved exploring the hidden depths of his dark cave that was his shed.
Grandpa  reminds me of a faithful  white haired man who used to cry at Easter time when he heard the hymn "There is a Green Hill Far Away.' Sadly my cousin Rose and I ( we must have been about 5 and 7 yrs old ) used to laugh at him crying. I wouldn't now...I realise why he was weeping...
That Jesus Christ should take my place on Calvary's Hill to show how much He loves and values me...
All this from that gorgeous coal tarry browny black treacle smell of creasote !