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Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. 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 in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

The Response of the Trio

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Health Routine

So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

The Results

I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.