Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern 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 lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, 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 leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
