Around this period a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures 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 clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered 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. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
