At this point a year ago, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, 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, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, 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. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.