Around this period a year ago, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. 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 which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. 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, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
