At this point last year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common 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? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
