Around this period last year, I found myself 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. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. 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, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
