At this point last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
