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At this point last year, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, however at that moment, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

Their Take of the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, 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, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Health Routine

So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, there were special precautions required during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.

The Results

I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.