This time a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern 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 lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.