Around this period last year, 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. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, 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 be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.