This time a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
