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At this point last year, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. Present were a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in the Surrey region. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction of the Trio

Upon referencing the party, these three musicians in the waiting area responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion regarding ways to stay cold-free that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – I need to dodge colds no matter what 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 colds last longer. 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 leave themselves. Back when I presented football on ITV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Managing Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. And there’s nothing as pitiable than a Brummie tone spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Bless her. Didn’t achieve anything, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Health Routine

So no, I loathe winter illnesses and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she was highly committed. She commanded us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months based on her explanation in addition, there were special precautions required during festivities. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Intense. I like it. And, listen to this, she required a repeat application post-event with more spray of the product.

The Results

I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the many containers I acquired, 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 oozing out. Still, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with her prevention arsenal. I'm set for the fight.