Around this period the previous year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, 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 learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
