🔗 Share this article

This time a year ago, I was participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, to break the silence, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction by the Trio

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room took two actions. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff prior to me blasting their ears, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. When I started college, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

So no, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the product.

The Results

I was in. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, found, and more. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.