At this point last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, 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, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing 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 because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
