At this point the previous year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession 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'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Managing Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. 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, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
The Results
I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
