At this point a year ago, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party 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 Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts 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 many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
