At this point the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
Their Take by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, 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. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
