Around this period the previous year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. 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 was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
