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This time a year ago, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.

The Reaction by the Singers

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio took two actions. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. 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 showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter from what I gathered plus, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application later with additional bursts of the product.

The Results

I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.