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This time the previous year, I was filming a television show alongside three vocalists. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It had been a good night, however at that moment, to break the silence, I wondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and some do not? A question for another day.

The Response by the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I must avoid colds at all costs as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Aerosols, liquids, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Thus, I hate colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures which whether folk remedies or not, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she was highly committed. She directed us to use hand gel hourly all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, extra steps were needed when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.

The Results

I adopted the method. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, repurchased, found, and so on. And the disappointing instant when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. Still, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.