At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, 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 dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
