Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – 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. I experience worse nasal blockage, 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 leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
