This time the previous year, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work 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 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. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
