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At this point last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, 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, but now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A question for another day.

The Reaction of the Trio

At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area took two actions. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was a major concern for them. I get that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me 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 symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the producer would yell to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Dealing With Blocked Noses

When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, distinctly Irish, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I focused carefully together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter as far as I could deduce in addition, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Drastic. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the solution.

What Happened Next

I was in. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the numerous products I purchased, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Still, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.