This time a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
