Around this period the previous year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing 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 giving up. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, found, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
