At this point last year, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, 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 showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
