Around this period last year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. 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. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then 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 instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, etc. 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, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
