Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – 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, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
