At this point a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
