Around this period the previous year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, 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 wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
The Results
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, mislaid, reacquired, found, etc. 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. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
