Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, 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 pondered 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 others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. 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. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. 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 took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
