At this point the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Trio
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. 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, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs 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 learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. 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 for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, found, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
