At this point last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Trio
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while 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. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil 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 which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently 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 commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
