At this point last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room 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. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, 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. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
