At this point the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned 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 somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, 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, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – 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 colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
