Around this period the previous year, I was on a TV programme 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. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Trio
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
