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Around this period a year ago, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A question for another day.

The Reaction by the Singers

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession 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 nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Dealing With Blocked Noses

When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the solution.

What Happened Next

I adopted the method. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, located, etc. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.