This time a year ago, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, 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, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief 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 sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. 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 based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
