Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
