Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. 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 now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
