This time the previous year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. 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 in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, 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 know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists 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 instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
