At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme 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 previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, 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 cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
