Around this period a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
