This time a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler 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. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
