At this point a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – 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 firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away 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 everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
