A swirl of green and blue lights. Billowing smoke. A disembodied being singing "Ahhh ah ahhh ah". The overpowering stench of lavender. A stint inside what might be the world's most relaxing room is rather like being abducted by aliens in a National Trust gift shop. Set in a dimly lit corner of the University of Hertfordshire, Hatfield, the room has been designed to assail volunteers with a concoction of lights, sounds and smells so they can cast aside the relentless pace of modern life - for 15 minutes at least.

"We looked at the research into relaxation and picked out some key elements that the literature said would be very effective," said professor of psychology Richard Wiseman. Open to the public for the next week, the relaxation room features a green light said to reawaken feelings of nature; a sky-like screen lit by blue lights to turn thoughts inwards; gentle music; a smoke machine; and pillows and mattresses daubed with the scent of lavender.

"It's giving all the senses a signal that there is no danger around," said Wiseman, who confessed to feeling "a little stressed out" from setting it all up.

Unfortunately for the first volunteers, the recipe for relaxation also included press photographers instructing them to "look vacant" while reporters barked questions at them.

Guillaume Alimier, 31, a university lecturer, was feeling relatively calm until I broke his meditative reverie. "At the time I was feeling relaxed. Now, no," he said as I peered over him.

Tobi Alli-Usman, 21, is a prime candidate for enforced relaxation: he juggles three mobile phones and three email addresses while running an events organisation. "Right now I just processed my thoughts into an order," he said, sounding surprised and exceedingly calm. "It's the music that probably helps. It's very soothing."

The relaxation room is not a controlled scientific experiment but Wiseman said it could prove "another way of getting relaxation out there" to businesses and schools. The room costs less than £1,000 to set up and Wiseman hopes organisations could create something similar to combat stress-related absenteeism and other modern woes. "We are interested in helping out the commercial sector but this isn't a commercial exercise. We're not selling a relaxation room, we're selling the idea of relaxation."

The New Age wailing - composed by the University of Hertfordshire's professor of music Tim Blinko - is beginning to grate, but in the interests of science I hook up to a heart monitor and take the relaxation room for a quick spin.

Then comes the sudden realisation that I've mislaid my pen. I thrash around on the mattress looking for it. My heart rate leaps. My rival from the Times is lying nearby. He looks very calm. That's also a worry. But after 10 minutes of horizontal fretting, swathed in green light, my blood pressure has dropped and my pulse has plummeted by 10 to below 50 a minute. That's far too calm to write this story up. Better crank up the stress levels again.