This time the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
