Around this period a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, 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 know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then 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 instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, 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 into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
