This time last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
