Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, 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, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
