Around this period the previous year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, 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 poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star 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 based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.
What Happened Next
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.
