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This time a year ago, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.

Their Take of the Singers

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs 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 colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.

My Experience

I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.