At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a 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 others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, located, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
