Around this period the previous year, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area 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 with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling 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 mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, 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 leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
