This time the previous year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, 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, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
