Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
Their Take from the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that 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 as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, 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 clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. 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. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, found, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
