This time a year ago, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Trio
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, 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, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
