Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. 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 feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. 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 know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
