Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party 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 topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. 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 that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that 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 as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
