Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to 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, repurchased, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
