This time the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
