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Around this period the previous year, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.

The Reaction of the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. 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. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

My Experience

I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.