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At this point a year ago, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Present were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.

The Response of the Trio

At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Managing Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, 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 giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.

What Happened Next

I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.