This time last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that 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 don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief 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. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, 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 leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
