This time a year ago, I was on a TV programme 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. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees 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 Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. 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 as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. 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, reacquired, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
