At this point the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling 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 help briefly before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, 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.
