Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. 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 had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a 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 some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, 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 be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
