Around this period a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, 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, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic 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. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
