Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old 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 it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists 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 all winter long from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
