Around this period the previous year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, 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. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, don’t work. 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 was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
