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At this point last year, I ended up participating in a broadcast with three singers. There was a rapper of Ghanaian heritage, a big pop star, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I attended a longtime friend's 60th birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how it was possible to avoid catching a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction of the Three Performers

When I brought up my evening, the group of artists backstage at the TV studio did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate on how to avoid catching colds that understandable due to their profession was almost an obsession. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – I need to dodge colds no matter what because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. 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 feels rougher, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. My relatives, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. During my time hosting football on TV, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery learned to recognize the signals. “Headphones off!” the director would shout to his team before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Dealing With Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, I could go on and on. Sprays, drops, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. In other words, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. At least this elicits sympathy, though that's not necessarily beneficial. In my first year away at university, separated from family care, the cleaner in our halls of residence showed me kindness. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was very lovely, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and making my breath smell terrible.

The Singer’s Health Routine

So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure that onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists as the singer detailed her prevention methods. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she approached it with great diligence. She commanded us to use hand gel hourly throughout the winter based on her explanation in addition, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Ahead of any such engagement, she recommended a couple of blasts of a nasal spray through the nasal passages – even if healthy. Drastic. I appreciated it. And, listen to this, she mandated a second dose later with additional bursts of the solution.

What Happened Next

I followed suit. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the many containers I acquired, lost, repurchased, located, and so on. Plus the frustrating time when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, all a price worth paying. With winter returning, I'm fully prepared with the singer's suggested supplies. I’m ready for battle.