This time a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
The Reaction of the Trio
At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.
The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
