This time last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians 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 that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
