Around this period a year ago, I was filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. 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. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy 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 mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
