This time the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers 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'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
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, lost, reacquired, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
