At this point a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space 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 part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
