Around this period last year, I was 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. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which 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 approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly all winter long from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
