At this point the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. 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.
