Around this period the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, 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, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, 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. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
