This time the previous year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, 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. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – 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. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy 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. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, 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 suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
