Around this period last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, 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, but now, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently 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 commanded us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. 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 leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
