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Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.

The Reaction of the Singers

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – 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 symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

What Happened Next

I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, 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 prepared to combat.