Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
