Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, 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 later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
