This time the previous year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
The Results
I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
