At this point the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion 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 – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
