At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs 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 learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, 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. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
