At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
The Reaction of the Singers
Upon referencing the party, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand 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 know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine
So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I like it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
