Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a 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, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this 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 as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, 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. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
