At this point last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.
The Reaction from the Three Performers
Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Handling Stuffy Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.
My Experience
I followed suit. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
