Around this period a year ago, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, 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, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
