There is something unique about the smell of the London Underground. The metro in Paris smells like a sewage treatment farm (more of them later), New York smells of fear more often than not and Stockholm's underground reeked of celery & champagne on the night that Chelsea beat Stuttgart.
The tube on the other hand smells of a unique combination of metal and grime, from the first step through the barriers at Cockfosters, the lifts at Mornington Crescent or the platform at Mile End the rush and tumble of the commuters, the procession of the carriages and the rumble of the escalators lingers in the space between the world above and the world below ground.
Combine that with the shunts, grunts and occasional rhyming curse you bump into on every other journey and you have something remarkable, frustrating and surprisingly precious. Mind the gap!
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