At this point last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered 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. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get 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. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone 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, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
