the chip shop salt and vinegar on the edge of the breeze

i was just walking down my street. the sun was blaring from the sky. and there was vinegar in the air from the chippy. the sensation gave me a sort of jolt through time and space, as scents are wont to do, and took me to the british seaside holidays of my childhood.

sticky hands, blackpool rock, the hot sun and the cold breeze. chips and salt, the squeak of plastic cutlery on polystyrene.