At this point the previous year, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. 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 remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
