Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
