At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
