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Around this period last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a well-known pop singer, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. It was deep midwinter. Just the night prior, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned ways to dodge the common cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, and others don’t? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction of the Trio

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. Firstly, they edged away from me. Secondly, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds and this understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, 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 firmly believe it. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, 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 evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, overloading their audio gear.

Handling Nasal Congestion

When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the sharp aroma of warm spirits my mother recommends … they provide temporary relief before giving up. Nothing is quite as sad as a Midlands dialect spoken without the benefit of air passing through the nostrils. I mean, it can sound nasal even normally. On the plus side, it draws pity, though that's not necessarily beneficial. When I started college, away from my mum and her medicinal brandy, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and demanded I eat the uncooked, peeled onion she brought to my sickbed. She monitored my consumption. Bless her. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Vocalist’s Cold Avoidance Regime

So no, I despise catching colds and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating that traditional or modern, don’t work. I listened intently together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. 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 as far as I could deduce plus, extra steps were needed during festivities. Before any event, she recommended a couple of blasts of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – whether you felt a cold coming or not. Intense. It appealed to me. And, get this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the product.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I can report I snuffled not once all last winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, bought again, located, etc. And the disappointing instant you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel you left in your back pocket and it's leaking all over. However, all a price worth paying. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I’m ready for battle.