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This time a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. 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 had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

Their Take of the Singers

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, overloading their audio gear.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts 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 after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

My Experience

I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.