Around this period a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered 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. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
