This time the previous year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. No improvement resulted, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.
