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At this point a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, 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. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? Something to explore later.

The Response from the Singers

When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to everyone 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, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.

What Happened Next

I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.