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Around this period a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

The Reaction of the Trio

When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds 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 since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Managing Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that whether folk remedies or not, are ineffective. I focused carefully 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 instructed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.

My Experience

I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.