Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
