At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a 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, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
