This time the previous year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.