Opinion: We've lost out on so much more than just the shopping experience
June, the most popular month for weddings in the Middle Ages because the bride and groom were still fresh from that yearly bath.
They were, however, starting to get a bit whiffy, so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to distract from the body odour.
The custom of carrying a bouquet lives on today.
Few brides getting wed this weekend will know that the reason they have ordered an expensive confection from the florist was to mask their personal pong.
Anyway, no need for flowers now when there's all-body deodorant to reach the parts run-of-the-mill underarm deodorants miss.
Adverts for this squirt-everywhere solution to embarrassing stink are everywhere.
You can't get through a TV advert break without a naked gang running along a beach with rolls of undulating fat to illustrate how those folds and crevices could be shower-fresh all day with sprays of all-body deodorant.
But the advert that really makes you look up from your knitting is the one when people are sniffing each other's bottoms, canine-greeting-like.
Yes, someone actually puts their nose to another's bottom, and another to a stranger's crotch in TV advertising to sell a product to banish every kind of body odour.
It's clear this new anti-smell weapon hasn't been invented because of any weird phenomena that's making us all smellier, but because we're bigger and the obese have more hiding places for bacteria to multiply and smelly stuff to grow.
I'm all for openness and attacking bashfulness about bodily functions but every other TV advert is about leaky bladders, piles, disguising sweat in places previously unspoken about and, the latest, celebration and pride about going for a number two at school or at work.
It might be something even royalty do, but do we really need it satellited into our sitting rooms every night?
The background, apparently, is that a large percentage of children refuse to go to the loo at school because they are embarrassed.
The same for grown-ups at work.
This campaign is attacking that taboo, so anyone anywhere is comfortable with public loo pooing.
A noble cause – constipation medication manufacturers are missing a trick not putting their own advertising after the Proud to Poo ads – but what's happened to cause this onslaught of in-your-face advertising about body topics once only whispered about?
Are we becoming more self-conscious than ever, or more comfortable to talk about what goes on under our clothes?
How far we've come since the trite advertising 20 years ago about how young women with periods could enjoy skiing, swimming and skating like anyone else.
Probably a step – and a poo – too far.
A woman posting on social media "set fire to [asylum] hotels for all I care" is guilty of inciting hate.
Lucy Connolly can shout she made a mistake as loud as she likes but deciding that this was an appropriate contribution to the aftermath of the Southport murders in the context of a rising swell of hatred against a section of society deserved punishment.
Yes, she may be being made an example of within that context but however hasty or knee-jerk to an inflamed situation doesn't lessen that statement.
Her husband said this week after she lost her appeal against her 31-month prison sentence: "My wife has paid a very high price for making a mistake and today the court has shown her no mercy."
Mercy is something she wasn't thinking about when she made that revolting post.
No mercy to the human beings – individuals – living in those hotels.
She argued she wasn't encouraging anyone to do it, merely saying she didn't care; didn't bother if what resulted was a pogrom?
Being "really angry, really upset" when she wrote the post is not an excuse, and she should not be excused or spared punishment.
My fear is though that she will become a martyr because there are hideous people who believe there was nothing wrong with her words and are filled with hatred towards people because of where they come from and want them gone, willing to employ their own vile solutions.
My thoughts last week about offering more than shopping in town and city centres to draw people in sparked much comment and debate.
After a coastal walk last weekend, I popped into Holt, admittedly a rarefied untypical town which sustains a busy shopping centre because its clientele is largely visiting or well-off well-heeled locals.
What pulls me into the town every time I'm 'up north' is the high street greengrocers.
The simple joy of wandering into a haven of freshness where fruit and vegetables smell and taste like they used to is heaven.
It makes you realise how easy to please we have become with our vacuum-packed taste-of-nothing supermarket produce.
Talk about taste the difference – there was no comparison.
That little detour for a shopping experience that brought such pleasure to the senses and satisfaction yet felt so sad that it is such a rare experience that so many miss out on unless places like Norwich Market are within their reach.
Again, we wanted the convenience of supermarkets, but we ended up losing out on so much more.

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TUAM, Ireland (AP) — Only one stone wall remains of the old mother and baby home in this town, but it has cast a shadow over all of Ireland. A mass grave that could hold up to nearly 800 infants and young children — some of it in a defunct septic tank — is being excavated on the grounds of the former home run by the Bon Secours Sisters, an order of nuns. The burial site has forced Ireland and the Catholic Church — long central to its identity — to reckon with a legacy of having shunned unmarried mothers and separated them from their children left at the mercy of a cruel system. The grave was accidentally discovered by two boys a half century ago. But the true horror of the place was not known until a local historian began digging into the home's history. Catherine Corless revealed that the site was atop a septic tank and that 796 deceased infants were unaccounted for. Her findings caused a scandal when the international news media wrote about her work in 2014. 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Corless said she was driven to expose the story 'the more I realized how those poor, unfortunate, vulnerable kids, through no fault of their own, had to go through this life.' Discovering deeply held secrets Corless' work brought together survivors of the homes and children who discovered their own mothers had given birth to long-lost relatives who died there. Annette McKay said there's still a level of denial about the abuse, rape and incest that led some women to the homes while fathers were not held accountable. 'They say things like the women were incarcerated and enslaved for being pregnant,' McKay said. 'Well, how did they get pregnant? Was it like an immaculate conception?' Her mother ended up in the home after being raped as a teenager by the caretaker of the industrial school where she had been sentenced for 'delinquency' after her mother died and father, a British soldier, abdicated responsibility. Her mother, Margaret 'Maggie' O'Connor, only revealed her secret when she was in her 70s, sobbing hysterically when the story finally came out. Six months after giving birth in Tuam in 1942, O'Connor was hanging laundry at another home where she had been transferred when a nun told her, 'the child of your sin is dead.' She never spoke of it again. Some 20 years later, a Sunday newspaper headline about a 'shock discovery' in Tuam caught McKay's attention. Among the names was her long-lost sister, Mary Margaret O'Connor, who died in 1943. Shame's long shadow Barbara Buckley was born in the Tuam home in 1957 and was 19 months old when she was adopted by a family in Cork. She was an adult when a cousin told her she'd been adopted and was later able to find her birth mother through an agency. Her mother came to visit from London for two days in 2000 and happened to be there on her 43rd birthday, though she didn't realize it. 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During his visit to Tuam before the dig began, a man from town told him at a bar: 'I respect you now, but growing up, I used to spit on you because that's what I was taught.' Cochran hopes the dig turns up few remains. 'I hope they don't find 796 bodies,' he said. 'That all these children were adopted and had a good life like I did.' McKay has had the same hope for her sister. But even if they found a thimble full of her remains, she'd like to reunite her with her mom, who died in 2016. 'The headstone hasn't got my mother's name on it because I fought everybody to say I refuse to put my mom's name on until she can have her child with her,' McKay said. ___ Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP's collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.