Around this period a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
