Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. 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. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
