At this point a year ago, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star 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 apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. 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 have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
