Around this period a year ago, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.
