Around this period a year ago, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
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 help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, 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. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I hate 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 forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
