This time the previous year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, 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 in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, 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 than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, 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 oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
