Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party 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 some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. 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. 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
