This time a year ago, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
