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Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.

The Response by the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. 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 which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.

Managing Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while 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. That is, 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, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Health Routine

Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the same stuff.

The Results

I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket 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 prepared to combat.