At this point last year, I was filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me 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 everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, 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.
