Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me 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 studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
