Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
