Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers 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? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. 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 now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. 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.
