Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, 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, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, 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 grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, 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 than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
