Around this period last year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party 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.
The Response from the Trio
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. 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 Health Routine
Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.
My Experience
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.
