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This time last year, I ended up on a TV programme with three singers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space somewhere in Surrey. It had been a good night, yet now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, how come some people have nose-blows like trumpets, and others don’t? Something to explore later.

The Response by the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours in the waiting area responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that expected because of their careers was almost an obsession. That makes sense, 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 know it to be true. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat feels rougher, I suffer from louder, more relentless coughing spells. My relatives, familiar with the early throat signs which herald the coming storm, sometimes banish me or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room grew attuned to the warning signs. “Earpieces out!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Handling Nasal Congestion

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, which isn't ideal. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. Be right back.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the peeled, raw onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, I’m afraid, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.

The Mezzo-Soprano’s Cold Avoidance Regime

Thus, I hate colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, are ineffective. I focused carefully along with the rapper and the pop star when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she approached it with great diligence. She instructed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour all winter long as far as I could deduce in addition, specific measures were necessary for social events and gatherings. Prior to socializing, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, get this, she insisted on following it up post-event with more spray of the product.

The Results

I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the many containers I acquired, mislaid, bought again, located, and so on. And the disappointing instant finding you've squashed the gel bottle kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. Nevertheless, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm fully prepared with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I’m ready for battle.