This time the previous year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
