At this point last year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
