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This time last year, I found myself filming a television show alongside three vocalists. There was a Ghanaian-origin rapper, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. The night before, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I pondered 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. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.

The Response of the Trio

When I brought up my evening, this trio of troubadours backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they moved back a bit. Secondly, they engaged in a feverishly enthusiastic discussion 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 because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. I lack official documentation, but I know it to be true. My symptoms persist. My nose is more blocked, my throat feels rougher, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. Those at home, alert to the initial throat noises that signal an oncoming cold, sometimes banish me or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, the unfortunate crew in the control room became familiar with the indicators. “Headphones off!” the studio director would holler to his team to avoid auditory overload, blowing the wiring in their headphones.

Managing Stuffy Noses

Regarding my nasal issues, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mom advocates … they help briefly until they fail. 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. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the janitor in our dorm showed me kindness. “I have the perfect solution, you unfortunate soul. Be right back.” She was wonderfully sweet, very Irish, and demanded I eat the fresh, skinless onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, other than causing digestive turmoil and creating bad breath.

The Singer’s Prevention Strategy

Therefore, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then along with the rapper and the pop star as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary when it came to parties and what not. Prior to socializing, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence through the nasal passages – regardless of symptoms. Intense. It appealed to me. Moreover, she insisted on following it up after the party with another couple of squirts of the product.

The Results

I was in. And I must admit I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the numerous products I purchased, lost, repurchased, located, etc. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer stored in your pocket and it's leaking all over. Nevertheless, a small cost for the benefit. With winter returning, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.