At this point the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered 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, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get 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, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. 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. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
