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Around this period the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in the Surrey region. 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 part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.

Their Take by the Singers

At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free which expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Managing Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. Be right back.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Thus, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then 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 was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the solution.

The Results

I adopted the method. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.