Around this period last year, I was filming a television show with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – 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 illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, 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 have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
