At this point a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, 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, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. 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 have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
