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This time the previous year, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.

The Response from the Three Performers

At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.

What Happened Next

I was in. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.