Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. 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, but now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, 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 have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, 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. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, 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, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. 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 when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, 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. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
