Around this period a year ago, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – 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 symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I paid close attention then 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 clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
