This time a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
