At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
