At this point last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room 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.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
