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At this point the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction from the Singers

At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free 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 since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, 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 became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. Moreover, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

What Happened Next

I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, misplaced, repurchased, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel 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 fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.