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Around this period last year, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A question for another day.

The Reaction from the Singers

At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the TV green room responded in two ways. Firstly, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation regarding ways to stay cold-free which naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My colds last longer. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Nasal Congestion

Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. That is, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.

The Results

I followed suit. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.