This time a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
