Around this period a year ago, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response from the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues 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 directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
