At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get 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, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. 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 hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
