Around this period a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
