Around this period last year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party 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? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
