This time a year ago, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs 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 nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
