Around this period a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction from the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, 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, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.
Dealing With Nasal Congestion
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy 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 delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, repurchased, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.
