At this point the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme 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. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, 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, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds 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 when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, 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 oozing out. However, 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 prepared to combat.
