Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. 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, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
