I Am the Ruler of the Common Cold – and I Can Reveal Ways to Prevent It

Around this period the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, 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, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

The Response of the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Managing Blocked Noses

When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, 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 dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime

So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

My Experience

I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.