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This time a year ago, I was filming a television show with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.

The Response from the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Managing Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. 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 showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.

My Experience

I followed suit. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.