At this point last year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. 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.
