At this point the previous year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, 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 some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, 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. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, 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 showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, located, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
