Around this period last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned 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, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party 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 some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked 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 mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered and, 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 – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
