This time a year ago, I was filming a television show with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment 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 mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
