This time a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party 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? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. 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 all winter long from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
