At this point last year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party 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? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. 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 cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, 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 now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
