At this point the previous year, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. 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 during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
