This time last year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.
Their Take from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. 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. 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, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … 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. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, 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 poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
