At this point last year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime 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, just for something to say, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room 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 prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, bought again, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
