Around this period a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, 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 clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, located, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
