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Around this period last year, I was on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.

The Response of the Singers

At mention of my night out, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Next, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. I understand that, 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, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.

My Experience

I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.