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Around this period last year, I was filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I pondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

The Response from the Trio

At mention of my night out, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Vocalist’s Health Routine

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly during the cold months based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the same stuff.

The Results

I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, reacquired, located, 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. However, 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.