At this point last year, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Response from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Managing Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
