At this point last year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, 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, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. 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’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, found, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
