Around this period a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Nasal Congestion
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
