At this point a year ago, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. 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, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists 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 that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
