This time a year ago, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered 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, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
