At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, 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 that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
