Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, 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 don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, 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. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which 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 commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
