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At this point last year, I was filming a television show in the company of three performers. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, however at that moment, to break the silence, I pondered how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.

The Response of the Trio

At mention of my night out, this trio of troubadours in the TV green room did two things. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was a major concern for them. I understand that, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes grew attuned to the warning signs. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Dealing With Stuffy 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 help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation felt sorry for me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime

So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She directed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of a preventive product into both nostrils – even if healthy. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the same stuff.

The Results

I followed suit. And I have to say I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, found, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle 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 stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.