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This time a year ago, I found myself filming a television show with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. We were in the heart of winter. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, to break the silence, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold as numerous attendees were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, while others are quieter? Something to explore later.

The Response of the Singers

Upon referencing the party, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. To begin with, they moved back a bit. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds which naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – preventing colds is crucial for me as my symptoms are harsher than most. I lack official documentation, yet I'm certain it's factual. My illnesses drag on. My nasal passages are more congested, I have a more irritated throat, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My family, alert to the initial throat noises indicating trouble ahead, sometimes banish me or evacuate the area. Back when I presented football on ITV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone prior to me blasting their ears, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Aerosols, liquids, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as a Midlands dialect uttered with blocked nasal passages. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaning staff at our accommodation showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, other than causing digestive turmoil and making my breath smell terrible.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime

So no, I despise catching colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour throughout the winter as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of a preventive product up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.

What Happened Next

I was in. And I have to say I remained cold-free. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, reacquired, found, and more. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it’s now splurging everywhere. Still, a small cost for the benefit. And now winter’s upon us again, I’m re-armed to the teeth with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm set for the fight.