Around this period a year ago, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – 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, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
