Around this period the previous year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
