At this point the previous year, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. 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's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, 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 ready for battle.
