At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get 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 illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
