Around this period the previous year, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered 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, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Trio
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
