What takes you back?

For no reason that I can pin down, I found myself mulling over those things that take me instantly back to my childhood - not just childhood memories, but small sensual experiences that recall familiar sensations from nearly forty years ago. Sights, smells, sounds ... I ended up coming up with something that has imprinted itself on each of my senses.

Sight: The sea. We live, as I did during childhood, about as far from the sea as it is possible to get anywhere in this island nation. Although it was only two and a half hours drive away, as a child to be by the sea was to be in another world. We regularly visited relatives who lived near the coast and usually took a seaside holiday every year. Oh, the excitement of watching for that first glimpse ... "The sea! I can see the sea!". Every time I catch sight of the sea I relive that old excitement.

Sound: A striking clock. In my childhood clocks that struck the hour were commonplace, particularly among older relatives. Now I rarely hear them. One particularly special striker was an antique grandfather clock belonging to my beloved great-aunt and uncle (to all practical purposes my maternal grandparents). His deep chiming through the night spelled safety and security whenever I stayed with them. Today "grandfather" belongs to my mother, and I still feel that comfortable reassurance when I hear him strike the hour.

Smell: Very mundane, I'm afraid, but ... manure! Growing up on a farm, "muck" - as it was euphemistically known - was a valuable fertiliser and launched a regular assault on our olfactory senses. Time and distance has left me with fonder memories than I probably had at the time. Whenever we are driving and find ourselves behind a "muck spreader", or pass a field where manure has recently been spread, the rest of my townie family hold their noses and demand that windows should be shut. I take deep, appreciative sniffs. Sad, but true.

Taste: When I was a very young child, the local village boasted a grocery store owned by "Uncle Joe" (a relative of indeterminate connection - probably a second or third cousin of either my grandfather or grandmother - half the village was related in those days!). Even in the 1960s this shop was a museum piece, with dry goods such as flour and sugar kept in large bins and measured out on request. Uncle Joe used to cook and slice large hams in a room behind the shop. I remember standing like a little bird with my mouth open while he dropped in tidbits of freshly cooked ham. I have had a weakness for ham ever since. (Apologies to my dear, kosher Tevye!)

Touch: The warmth of an open fire. (Does that count as touch?) The farmhouse I grew up in did not have central heating, and the living room was always heated by a coal fire. The hours I spent sitting or lying on a rug in front of the fire with a book! As an adult I have never lived in a house with a usable fireplace, and in any case open fires have become a rarity as central heating has become universal. When I do find myself somewhere with a roaring fire, I am a ten year old again :).

So ... what takes you back?