This time the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – 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 illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
