This time a year ago, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect 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 felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching 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 while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, 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 leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
