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This time last year, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. 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 somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, just for something to say, I questioned how one could prevent getting 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 some do not? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction from the Singers

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Managing Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures 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. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.

What Happened Next

I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.