Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. 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 firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, bought again, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
