Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, 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, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a 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 topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
