Around this period the previous year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. 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 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. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
