This time a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
