At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme with three singers. 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, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, 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. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone 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. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. 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 Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
