This time a year ago, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Present were 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 had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, 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, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. 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.
