This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession 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 know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly 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 always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
