This time last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
