At this point the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work 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 as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. 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.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. 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. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, 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. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. 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. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
