Around this period a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered 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, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response of 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 launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required 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. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
