At this point last year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad 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. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
