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This time a year ago, I was filming a television show with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, 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, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

The Response of the Singers

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Blocked Noses

When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable 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 cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently together with the other artists 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 apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, bought again, rediscovered, and so on. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.