Around this period a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
