Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, 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. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
