Around this period a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. 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 ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, found, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
