Around this period a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
