Around this period the previous year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, 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’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. 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. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
