At this point last year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – 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 firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
