This time the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet 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. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, 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 colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
