Around this period last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common 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, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, 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 poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
