At this point the previous year, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I understand 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get 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. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
