Around this period the previous year, I was filming a television show with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. 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, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. 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 is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
