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Around this period last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. 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, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.

Their Take by the Singers

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. 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, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, found, and more. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.