At this point the previous year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed 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 when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
