At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get 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 firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, 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, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
A passionate gamer and tech writer with over a decade of experience covering the gaming industry and sharing practical gaming advice.
