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At this point a year ago, I was on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A question for another day.

The Response from the Trio

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion on how to avoid catching colds which expected because of their careers was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I have skin in this game too – I must avoid colds at all costs because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, 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. Those at home, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or clear the room themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent delivered with no nasal airflow. I mean, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaner in our halls of residence took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the peeled, raw onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which whether folk remedies or not, fail to help. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues as the singer detailed her prevention methods. Due to upcoming holiday performances, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long based on her explanation plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a preventive product through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Extreme. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.

The Results

I followed suit. And I must admit I snuffled not once all last winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, mislaid, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment finding you've squashed the gel bottle stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. However, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.