Around this period last year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
Their Take from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently 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 instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
