At this point a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a 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 others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently 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 commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
