At this point the previous year, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. 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 was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, 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. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, found, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
