At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included 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 in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, 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 wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, 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 in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
