Travellers arriving back at Gatwick last Sunday morning encountered the kind of industrial disruption more redolent of the winter of discontent than Britain's modern and flexible economy.
The place is redolent of Viennese history as the city government's web site points out.
No radio, no TV, just the meal, the New Yorker, and the soft high whine of Jasper breathing through his nose, coveting the redolent sausage.
Apparently, everyone at the Spectator is interested in poetry, ‘just as we are interested in the smell of our own armpits, because they are uniquely redolent of ourselves’.
My normally reserved father turns into a rapacious gourmand around the steaming, redolent pot, reliving his Saskatchewan youth by heaping his plate.
I remember the covers, too, evocative old-style paintings of girls in clothing redolent of a bygone era, so unlike what we wore in the 1960s that it added another layer of exotic mystery.
I have a fondness for the stories of the newsrooms of the past, filled with smoke, redolent with the smell of dirty paste pots, the sound of the bulletin bell on the wire service machines.
The materials are redolent of impoverishment.
The description is so redolent of history as to be a constitutional precedent in itself.
And the whole town smoulders damply under a haze of burnt burger, singed sausage, and evaporated candy floss, all slightly sticky and redolent of the smell of pink bubble gum.