Around this period the previous year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
