This time the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers 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? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
