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At this point a year ago, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

The Reaction of the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, 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 unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, 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 preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I can report I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, reacquired, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.