Ben Machell on his new love for scented candles

My mum got me a scented candle for Christmas. It came in a tasteful little Nordic-looking box and promised ‘the calm of the boreal forest’. I didn’t really know what the boreal forest was and I didn’t really care. To be honest, I’d been hoping for a bottle of Scotch, so politely chucked the candle over my shoulder and forgot all about it.

But then a few weeks ago I noticed the unopened candle just sat there on my mantelpiece. And for reasons I cannot fully explain, I decided to light it. I then went about my business — reading about Vikings on Wikipedia or something cool like that — and the room gradually began to smell of delicate pine. It was nice. An hour or so later I blew the candle out and went to bed and didn’t think anything more of it.

The following evening, I did the same thing. Ditto the evening after that. And again after that. I started lighting the candle in the mornings and then, before long, whenever I walked into the room. The zip and flash of a match followed by the slow, calming hit of boreal forest aroma became the first thing I’d think about upon rising and the last thing I’d think about before bed. When it ran out, I just bought another. And then another. And another. Putting the bins out, the glass encasements of the spent candles now clink together embarrassingly. It’s funny: you think you know the things you run the risk of becoming addicted to — lager, sword and sorcery-themed computer games, Kellogg’s Start breakfast cereal — but then suddenly, from nowhere, you’re completely off your head on hygge. I feel like Zammo off Grange Hill, only in my mid-30s, living in Hackney and hooked on fancy candles rather than heroin.

Still, it’s chilling how the candles have served as a kind of gateway aroma to other dramatic lifestyle changes. For years my entire thing was that, deep down, I was an unreconstructed Yorkshireman who was cynical about smug metropolitan lifestyle accoutrements. But now I’ve signed up for a Pilates class. I’m drinking a lot of mint tea and taking long, hot baths up to five times a week. I paid for a massage the other week just because, well… why not? I honestly don’t know what’s going on. I think I need to get back to playing football.