This time last year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
The Results
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
