At this point last year, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. 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 feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
