Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers 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, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.
Their Take from the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.
Dealing With Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. 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. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.
The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime
Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.
The Results
I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, found, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.
