At this point last year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, 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. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, 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 snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
