At this point a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary 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. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
