At this point a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Response by the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, 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 leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
