At this point last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, 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. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Nasal Congestion
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
