Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
