At this point last year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees 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 others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get 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. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed 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. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, located, 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. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
