At this point last year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. 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. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – 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 illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked 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 provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently 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 directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
