Around this period the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. 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, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back 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.
