Around this period the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
