This time last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
