Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, 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, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
Their Take of the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time 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 fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
