This time a year ago, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction by the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, 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, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
