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Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast with three singers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

The Response from the Trio

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds and this understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the solution.

My Experience

I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, located, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.