At this point last year, I was filming a television show with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a 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? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Trio
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, 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. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
