At this point a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then 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 was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
