This time last year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Response from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, 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 leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
