Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
