This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching 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? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
