At this point last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take of the Singers
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession 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 don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.
The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime
So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.
