At this point last year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. 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 somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get 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 lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, 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 dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star 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 commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, located, 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. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
