This time last year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work 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. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
