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At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered 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.

Their Take of the Trio

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds and this expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up 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 many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, and more. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.