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At this point last year, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, 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, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

The Reaction of the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.

Managing Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before admitting defeat. Nothing is quite as sad as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.