This time last year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand 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 lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
