Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. 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, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … 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. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
