This time last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. First, they edged away from me. 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. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
