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 big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
