At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, 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 cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
