I'm the Ruler of Catching Colds – and I'm Able to Reveal Ways to Prevent It

At this point a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.

Their Take by the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. 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 his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.

The Results

I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.