At this point last year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take from the Trio
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. 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, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, located, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
