Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, 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 the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, don’t work. 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 approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
