Around this period last year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
