Around this period the previous year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, 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 had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, 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. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. 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 unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, and more. 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 oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
