Around this period last year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. 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's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
