At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
