This time a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. 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 feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, bought again, located, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
