At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, 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. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. 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 everyone 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, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect 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. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, located, 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 leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
