🔗 Share this article

This time a year ago, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and some do not? Something to explore later.

Their Take by the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I know it to be true. My illnesses drag on. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, 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 giving up. 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. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months from what I gathered in addition, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. 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, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.