🔗 Share this article

This time a year ago, I ended up filming a television show in the company of three performers. Included were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a well-known pop singer, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. The festivities were fun, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? Something to explore later.

The Response from the Trio

At mention of my night out, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio did two things. To begin with, they edged away from me. Second, they launched into an animated conversation on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Handling Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She stood and watched me do so. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.

The Vocalist’s Health Routine

Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that onion-based or otherwise, fail to help. I listened intently 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 commanded us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

My Experience

I adopted the method. And I can report I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.