At this point last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party 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, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, located, and more. 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. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
