Around this period the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, 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 teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
