I've always spoken with an adenoidal twang and I liked to think it was part of my northern charm. Two weeks ago, I discovered it wasn't. It was a moment of Damascene significance in my life as, for the first time, I heard my own voice as others hear it (less shrill than I suspected), while everything else around me sounded as if someone had turned up the volume a notch or two.
"London is LOUD, isn't it," I texted a friend. God, I felt good, euphoric almost - as though my brain had been "freed up". This must be how normal people feel all the time, I thought; people whose auditory canals and sinuses are as clear and free-flowing as a mountain stream.
My own anatomy in this region had more in common with the old Leeds and Liverpool Canal - static and stagnant - until a kindly therapist stuck a burning candle in each ear, decongesting them, releasing pressure and triggering a wonderful ripple effect throughout all interconnected tubes and cavities.
Therapist Marie Coudounas was diplomatic. "There's a lot of build-up, particularly in your left ear," she said. "You may need to come again." What she meant was, "You have a disgusting amount of wax and one treatment won't shift it."
I am now addicted to what is known as thermal auricular therapy, or ear candling. Though subsequent treatments have not proved as dramatic as the first, the decongested life is a revelation, and more pleasant than knocking back Sudafed.
Source - Telegraph