Around this period the previous year, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession 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 lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, 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, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
