IT was three weeks ago. There was no swinging watch or spiralling eyes, no clucking like a chicken or stripping. But I went deep, deep into a trance and I haven't smoked since.

I was a binge smoker, the lesser-known relative of the binge drinker. I wouldn't smoke for three or four days and then I'd light up on a night out and keep on going until my lungs hurt and my clothes stank.

Every few weeks I decided to quit. I had even gone for a month at the beginning of the year without a fag. But it didn't last. My will power and the addictive habit conspired to keep me smoking.

One night, deep into the small hours and far down the pint glass, a friend who had recently quit reached out for a roll-up. He made it, looked at it and put it down.

"I can't do it. I don't need it," he said and dropped it in the ashtray. I was impressed. He was a heavy smoker who had tried and failed to give up loads of times and I wanted to know his secret. "Hypnotism," he replied as I lit his discarded cigarette.

When I turned up for my session with Karen Riley, a former Calderdale resident who now practises in Huddersfield, I was unsure what to expect. Hypnotism is plagued with a poor Press. It conjures up images of shiny-suited men convincing drunken revellers to humiliate themselves.

The reality is massively different. The certificates and awards lining the wall of the small, comfortable office are the first hint. And Karen is a quick to reinforce the distinction.

"I practise clinical hypnosis not hypnotism. Hypnotism is what Paul McKenna and that lot do. There is no clinical element to it. It is just fun," she said.

"People who come here are very cynical. A lot of them have got to the point where they are so desperate they will try anything but they are still sceptical.

"I don't expect them to believe in it until they have seen the results. It might be a nice calm birth or a pregnancy or stopping smoking, whatever they have come for. And when I receive thank you notes, " she says waving at a set of shelves packed with gifts and cards, "that is really satisfying."

Half an hour later I am in a deep, comfortable armchair covered in a blanket and staring at an abstract picture high on the wall. The lights are low and soft music is seeping out of a stereo. Karen is speaking slowly and calmly and my eyelids are heavy. They drop.

It is like being perched on the edge of sleep. In the chat before the trance Karen had explained that I would enter an "alpha" state. This is electrical activity in the brain, thought to be created by the visual cortex in an idle state. It happens at times of deep relaxation.

I can still hear Karen's voice, and the traffic outside her practice at the Astwood Clinic, New Hey Road, Marsh, Hudderfield. All my thoughts tell me I could open my eyes at any time. But the trance deepens. It happens by degrees.

While I am hypnotised I am aware of what is being said. It wraps around me like a dream and makes complete sense. Karen tailors each session to the client's personality and circumstances based on what they tell her before the session starts.