Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
