This time last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
