Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. 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 cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, located, etc. 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. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
