Around this period last year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. 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 was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees 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 of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
