Around this period a year ago, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 colds last longer. 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, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. 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 janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and more. 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. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
