This time a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned 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 the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate 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 – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. 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, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. 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 as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, and more. 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 now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
