At this point the previous year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
