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Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

The Reaction from the Three Performers

At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Dealing With Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. 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. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.

My Experience

I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, 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 now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.