This time a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast 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. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.
Their Take of the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Stuffy Noses
Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.
The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists 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 directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, 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. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, located, etc. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.
