At this point a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response by the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
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 as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
