Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, fail to help. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
