This time last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. 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 snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
