This time last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. 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 had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
