At this point the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs 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 nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
