This time the previous year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime 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, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, 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 showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
