At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
