A scent of roses
Last Christmas, when Clive was in hospital in France and I was on my own in Italy, I bought a rose-scented candle to keep me company.
This Christmas, although we’re back together, I lit the candle again.
Every time I come into the room, the scent envelops me – not faint and delicate like the perfume of the roses which still persist in the garden, but rich, creamy and heady.
The flame, flickering in my peripheral vision, adds to the feeling of cosiness.
We have a big candle painted with Nativity scenes on the other side of the room, and a freesia-scented candle to take over when this one’s finished, but this is the romantic one.