This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
