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This time a year ago, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. We were in the heart of winter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It had been a good night, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. On a side note, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction by the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the TV green room took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – 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, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Managing Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, 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 until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. 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’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, sadly, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.

What Happened Next

I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, reacquired, located, and so on. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.