🔗 Share this article

This time the previous year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, simply to make conversation, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A question for another day.

Their Take by the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I lack official documentation, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.