Around this period last year, I found myself on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. 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. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then 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 approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. 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.
