At this point the previous year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response by the Trio
When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. 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, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
