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This time a year ago, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.

The Response of the Trio

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. First, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Blocked Noses

When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Health Routine

Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully 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 clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation 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 up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, get this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.