Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
The Response of the Singers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. 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 showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
