At this point last year, I found myself 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. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
