At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a 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 topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, 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 set for the fight.