Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
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, bought again, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
