Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party 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.
The Reaction of the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
