This time a year ago, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
