This time last year, I was filming a television show with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand 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. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, 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 grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently 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 sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
