Around this period a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, 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. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, 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 grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
