This time the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. 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 have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, located, and so on. 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 leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
