This time a year ago, I was filming a television show with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, 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, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
