This time last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect 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. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
