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Around this period the previous year, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

Their Take of the Three Performers

At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. 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 teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Blocked Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.