At this point the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response of the Trio
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
