At this point the previous year, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party 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? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
