Around this period the previous year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction by the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, 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 was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, located, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
