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At this point last year, 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. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

The Response of the Trio

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Second, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed 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. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

The Results

I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.