Around this period last year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response of the Three Performers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. 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. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
