Stubbed out

I went to the launderette fortnightly. It wasn't that I had lots of clothes—I didn't. But a wet sponge and steam iron works wonders. As I ironed, the steam billowed from my PolymixPubJob shirt, carrying the sweet smell of stale beer and cigarettes. The final touch to my shirt was aftershave. In the 1980s this was all produced in Middlesbrough by ICI to a classified cold war formula—a tiny splash of Brut Musk could conceal weeks of unwashed clothes. To this day it still seeps from my pores when I sweat. …