Around this period last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, 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 colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, 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, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months 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 through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
