This time the previous year, I was on a TV programme 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 attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’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 listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
