At this point a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. 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, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a 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, and some do not? A question for another day.
The Response of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, 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 plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
