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At this point last year, I was filming a television show with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. By the way, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? A question for another day.

The Reaction by the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists in the TV green room did two things. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free and this naturally enough given their line of work was something of an obsession for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the studio director would holler to the staff to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you dear. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and making my breath smell terrible.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Health Routine

Therefore, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.

My Experience

I was in. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, lost, reacquired, found, etc. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.