Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. 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 took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, found, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
