At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old 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 when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, 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 illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
