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Around this period the previous year, I was participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered 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. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

The Reaction from the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. 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, which isn't ideal. 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’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently 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 instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.

My Experience

I adopted the method. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.