Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned 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 somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic 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. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, fail to help. 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 clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, 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. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
