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Around this period a year ago, I found myself on a TV programme in the company of three performers. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. Just the night prior, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction by the Three Performers

Upon referencing the party, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area took two actions. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I get that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I don’t have a medical certificate to confirm this, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, familiar with the early throat signs that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or evacuate the area. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone before I deafened them all, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Managing Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don't get me started. Sprays, drops, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn't ideal. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she brought to my sickbed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. Didn’t achieve anything, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that 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 approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered and, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Before any event, she advised several sprays of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. I like it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the numerous products I purchased, mislaid, reacquired, found, and more. 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, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.