Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. 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 was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
