Around this period the previous year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned 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 had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, bought again, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
