At this point a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away 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 director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. 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 from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
