At this point the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones 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, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
