This time a year ago, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. 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, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel 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 set for the fight.
