This time a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. That makes sense, 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. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. 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. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
