Around this period the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, 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 family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
