Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern 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'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … 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. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.