This time a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
