Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. First, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’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, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. 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 oozing out. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
