Around this period last year, I was filming a television show with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, 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, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for 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 brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, 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.
