At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. 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, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
