This time last year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
