This time last year, I found myself on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, 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 director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
