From sea salt to cardamom, soy wax to sustainable refills, these are the best, most nausea-free scented candles around for Christmas and beyond (and they’re all under £30)

• The best diffusers for your home

While scented candles are a failsafe gift , they can be seen as a bit unimaginative. But they’re perfect for winter days at home and thoroughly festive. Lighting a candle is a ceremony, and the flickering flame can trigger something comfortingly primal in us.

Retailers, from supermarkets to artisan independents, are developing huge ranges of scented candles, and it’s hard to know where to start, and what’s any good. Many of us have been disappointed by a candle that smelled divine when we had an in-store sniff, only to be distinctly underwhelming once it’s home. So we’ve sniffed, burned and rated dozens of candles for you.

From sea salt to cardamom, soy wax to sustainable refills, these are the best, most nausea-free scented candles around for Christmas and beyond (and they’re all under £30)

• The best diffusers for your home

While scented candles are a failsafe gift , they can be seen as a bit unimaginative. But they’re perfect for winter days at home and thoroughly festive. Lighting a candle is a ceremony, and the flickering flame can trigger something comfortingly primal in us.

Retailers, from supermarkets to artisan independents, are developing huge ranges of scented candles, and it’s hard to know where to start, and what’s any good. Many of us have been disappointed by a candle that smelled divine when we had an in-store sniff, only to be distinctly underwhelming once it’s home. So we’ve sniffed, burned and rated dozens of candles for you.

From sea salt to cardamom, soy wax to sustainable refills, these are the best, most nausea-free scented candles around for Christmas and beyond (and they’re all under £30)

• The best diffusers for your home

While scented candles are a failsafe gift , they can be seen as a bit unimaginative. But they’re perfect for winter days at home and thoroughly festive. Lighting a candle is a ceremony, and the flickering flame can trigger something comfortingly primal in us.

Retailers, from supermarkets to artisan independents, are developing huge ranges of scented candles, and it’s hard to know where to start, and what’s any good. Many of us have been disappointed by a candle that smelled divine when we had an in-store sniff, only to be distinctly underwhelming once it’s home. So we’ve sniffed, burned and rated dozens of candles for you.

Wes Streeting’s plan to make booking easier made sense. Then I encountered an AI triagist, a stubborn receptionist and a Kafkaesque vicious circle

A couple of months ago the health secretary, Wes Streeting, rolled out his latest master plan to save the NHS. From 1 October, it became compulsory for all GP practices in England to offer the online option for patients to request non-urgent appointments or medical advice throughout core working hours (8am to 6.30pm, Monday to Friday).

The doctors’ union might not have much liked it , but it made sense to regular punters like me. It seemed like a common sense means of avoiding the maddening early morning scramble for the few available appointments, hanging on for an age, only to be told all the slots have gone. Or worse, just have the phone go dead on you.

Simon Hattenstone is a features writer for the Guardian

Wes Streeting’s plan to make booking easier made sense. Then I encountered an AI triagist, a stubborn receptionist and a Kafkaesque vicious circle

A couple of months ago the health secretary, Wes Streeting, rolled out his latest master plan to save the NHS. From 1 October, it became compulsory for all GP practices in England to offer the online option for patients to request non-urgent appointments or medical advice throughout core working hours (8am to 6.30pm, Monday to Friday).

The doctors’ union might not have much liked it , but it made sense to regular punters like me. It seemed like a common sense means of avoiding the maddening early morning scramble for the few available appointments, hanging on for an age, only to be told all the slots have gone. Or worse, just have the phone go dead on you.

Simon Hattenstone is a features writer for the Guardian

Wes Streeting’s plan to make booking easier made sense. Then I encountered an AI triagist, a stubborn receptionist and a Kafkaesque vicious circle

A couple of months ago the health secretary, Wes Streeting, rolled out his latest master plan to save the NHS. From 1 October, it became compulsory for all GP practices in England to offer the online option for patients to request non-urgent appointments or medical advice throughout core working hours (8am to 6.30pm, Monday to Friday).

The doctors’ union might not have much liked it , but it made sense to regular punters like me. It seemed like a common sense means of avoiding the maddening early morning scramble for the few available appointments, hanging on for an age, only to be told all the slots have gone. Or worse, just have the phone go dead on you.

Simon Hattenstone is a features writer for the Guardian

Barred from work and school in Bangladesh, thousands of refugees are making the perilous voyage to Malaysia by boat – with some beaten en route to extort even more money

Majuma Begum stayed awake until 3am waiting for her son to return from the market before accepting he was not coming home. The next day he phoned to say he was on the Bangladeshi coast, waiting to begin a boat journey to Malaysia that she had desperately tried to stop him taking.

It was the start of weeks of worry for the 58-year-old, whose fears deepened when a boat carrying Rohingya refugees capsized near Malaysia in early November, killing dozens. She felt as though she could finally breathe again when he finally reached his destination.

Barred from work and school in Bangladesh, thousands of refugees are making the perilous voyage to Malaysia by boat – with some beaten en route to extort even more money

Majuma Begum stayed awake until 3am waiting for her son to return from the market before accepting he was not coming home. The next day he phoned to say he was on the Bangladeshi coast, waiting to begin a boat journey to Malaysia that she had desperately tried to stop him taking.

It was the start of weeks of worry for the 58-year-old, whose fears deepened when a boat carrying Rohingya refugees capsized near Malaysia in early November, killing dozens. She felt as though she could finally breathe again when he finally reached his destination.

Barred from work and school in Bangladesh, thousands of refugees are making the perilous voyage to Malaysia by boat – with some beaten en route to extort even more money

Majuma Begum stayed awake until 3am waiting for her son to return from the market before accepting he was not coming home. The next day he phoned to say he was on the Bangladeshi coast, waiting to begin a boat journey to Malaysia that she had desperately tried to stop him taking.

It was the start of weeks of worry for the 58-year-old, whose fears deepened when a boat carrying Rohingya refugees capsized near Malaysia in early November, killing dozens. She felt as though she could finally breathe again when he finally reached his destination.