At this point the previous year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, 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 a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
