At this point last year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand 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 firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. 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 approached it with great diligence. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
