At this point a year ago, I was filming a television show with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. 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. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
