Around this period the previous year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, 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, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
