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This time last year, I ended up filming a television show with three singers. Included were a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I questioned how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were players in a symphony of coughs, sneezes, snuffles and nose-blows. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

Their Take from the Singers

At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area responded in two ways. First, they shrunk away from me slightly. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion about preventing colds and this naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I'm also deeply invested – 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 symptoms persist. My nasal passages are more congested, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, alert to the initial throat noises which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Nasal Congestion

When it comes to congestion, don't get me started. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they help briefly before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic as the sound of a Birmingham accent spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it sounds a bit nasally restricted at the best of times. On the plus side, it draws pity, which isn't ideal. When I started college, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm took pity on me. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and leaving my breath foul.

The Singer’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, are ineffective. I listened intently along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. 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 all winter long as far as I could deduce and, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Extreme. It appealed to me. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

My Experience

I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's oozing out. Nevertheless, all a price worth paying. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm set for the fight.