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At this point last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

The Response from the Trio

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Managing Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Health Routine

So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.

The Results

I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.