Around this period a year ago, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, 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, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
