Around this period a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect 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, 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 extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully 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 use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
