Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. 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, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
