Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
