This time last year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.
The Reaction of the Three Performers
When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.
Handling Blocked Noses
As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.
The Singer’s Health Routine
Therefore, 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. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.
What Happened Next
I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, 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.
