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This time the previous year, I was on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

The Response of the Singers

At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to the staff to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Dealing With Nasal Congestion

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

The Results

I adopted the method. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, bought again, found, etc. Plus the frustrating time finding you've squashed the gel bottle you left in your back pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.