At this point the previous year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. 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 janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
The Results
I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
