Around this period last year, I was filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, 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. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. 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 which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
