This time last year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, found, etc. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
