Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered 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. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. 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. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, found, etc. 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. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
