This time a year ago, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A question for another day.
Their Take by the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this naturally enough given their line of work 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 since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully 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 was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, 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 oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
