This time the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
