At this point a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling 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 provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
