This time last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. First, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. 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. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
