Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting 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, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy 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 help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
