At this point the previous year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, 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 return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, located, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, 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.
