This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees 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 Reaction by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
