At this point last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, 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 a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching 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 topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
