Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer 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 stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
