This time last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
