This time the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. 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 can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered in addition, 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. Drastic. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
