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Around this period a year ago, I ended up filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, to break the silence, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.

The Response of the Singers

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Managing Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which traditional or modern, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she required a repeat application after the party with another couple of squirts of the same stuff.

The Results

I was in. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.