Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
