At this point a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers 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? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, 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, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
