As a young child I lived out in the countryside near a dairy farm. The dairy farm turned some of their milk into ice cream which they sold on site.

As a treat, my parents would take us for ice cream at the farm. Thus, my first exposure to both the taste of ice cream and the smell of cow shit happened at the same time.

And so, like some kind of scatty Pavlovian, now whenever I walk through a field and smell shit, I think of ice cream and feel warm and happy.

Not just any shit though, I’m a classy broad. It has to be the farmy grassy manurey kind. If I could get it in a candle I would.