From Edinburgh, Scotland: "Fools rush in" [a Top Ten Bus Stories nominee]. (Not Reading On the Bus)

On one of the miracle days of summer this week (there have only been two), I found myself in a bus shelter next to a woman who smelled distinctly of bog myrtle.  At first I could not understand where the scent was coming from, as bog myrtle isn’t exactly what you expect to smell in the middle of a city.  I looked around, but there were no plants or trees anywhere nearby the scent could have come from.  Yet there it was, utterly distinctive and unmistakably coming from the only other person in the bus shelter. (Read more here.)