Around this period the previous year, I was filming a television show with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, 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 pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response of the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. 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 poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
