This time last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, located, 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 oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
