At this point the previous year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response of the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession 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. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, etc. 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 now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
