This time the previous year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take by the Trio
Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
