Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was 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 in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, 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'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, located, etc. 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, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
