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Around this period last year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. On a side note, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

The Reaction from the Three Performers

At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room responded in two ways. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. I get that, but I'm also deeply invested – I must avoid colds at all costs 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 symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Blocked Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before admitting defeat. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. During my initial university year, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. No improvement resulted, I’m afraid, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Singer’s Health Routine

So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I focused carefully together with the other artists while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter from what I gathered and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.

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, lost, bought again, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.