This time a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. 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 indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your 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.
