Around this period a year ago, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – 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 illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
