Personally, I've always liked the smell of a pub. I never used to mind the whiff of tobacco smoke in the air and, when combined with the hoppy scent of beer and a lingering trace of the lunchtime special, it all held the promise of a good time to come.
Of course, what to me are promising aromas could come across to someone else as unwashed ashtrays, soggy beer towels and overworked chip fat.
Smell can have an instant effect on our impressions of a pub, well before our other senses kick in. A negative impression is likely to influence the decision about whether to stay even for a drink, let alone a meal.
Certainly, the smoking ban has been nothing to sniff at as far as odour management is concerned. For the lucky pubs, it was just the carpets, curtains, and soft furnishings that needed a clean once the ban kicked in.
For others it was the plumbing, kitchen and sometimes even the staff and customers whose distinctive odours had been masked by the smell of tobacco smoke.
All of which goes some way towards explaining why I found myself sitting in a university lab one morning, wearing a fetching skull-cap, having electrodes attached to my scalp using conductive gel, wired up to an EEG machine and desperately missing my morning cup of coffee.
I was there at the invitation of P&G Professional, owner of brands such as Fairy, Ariel and Febreeze. In charge of reading my brainwaves was Duncan Smith, head of field operations with Mindlab International, a company that uses data on the way our brains react to outside stimuli to advise businesses on product development.
I'd had to forego my morning coffee because that all-important caffeine rush can have an impact on the way the brain processes information.
For similar reasons, my instructions had included staying within the legal drink-drive limit the previous evening. Naturally, this was not an issue for a sober, responsible pub-trade journalist.
Once I was wired up, Smith showed me pictures of pubs - everything from a traditional bar to a table-clothed restaurant area. At the same time, various vials were opened under my nose, each containing a different odour.
"If it's a bad smell, I'll give you a warning," he promised. "You don't want to inhale those too deeply." That was sound advice, given that some of the odours were designed to replicate the smell of a blocked pub loo or the body odour of an unwashed barman towards the end of a busy shift.
I was asked to grade each picture on criteria that included how welcoming I thought it was, how hygienic, and so on. Clearly, it doesn't take a scientist to work out that the smell of a freshly laundered tablecloth is likely to get a more positive reaction than the pong of a dodgy loo.
However, by measuring the reactions of a range of people, Mindlab is able to come up with information that will help to ensure cleaning products have fragrances that help to boost a customer's impression of a pub.
One word of advice for anyone having an EEG though - take some shampoo. I had a lunch meeting afterwards, and the shapes the gel had sculpted my hair into definitely raised a few eyebrows. Anyone who's seen the film There's Something About Mary will know what I mean…