Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. 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. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
