Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. 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, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief 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. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, 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. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
