At this point last year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, 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 lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
