Around this period a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, 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. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, 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 clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
