At this point a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
