This time a year ago, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Next, 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 have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
