Around this period the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, found, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
