This time last year, I was filming a television show with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, 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 nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
