This time the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.
The Reaction by the Singers
At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Prevention Strategy
Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
My Experience
I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.
