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Around this period last year, I found myself filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction by the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

My Experience

I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.