At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern 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 firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, 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 now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
