Around this period last year, I was filming a television show with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous 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, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. 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 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 felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
