At this point the previous year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. When I started college, 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 extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then 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 apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, found, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
