This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. 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 coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts 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, mislaid, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. 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 set for the fight.
