At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
