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This time the previous year, I found myself participating in a broadcast alongside three vocalists. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, plus a renowned mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The previous evening, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, crammed into the function room of a pub in a Surrey location. The festivities were fun, yet now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold when half the people at the party were part of an orchestra of winter ailments. Incidentally, why do certain individuals blow their noses so loudly, while others are quieter? A question for another day.

The Response from the Singers

When I brought up my evening, these three musicians in the waiting area did two things. Firstly, they edged away from me. Next, they launched into an animated conversation about preventing colds that naturally enough given their line of work was almost an obsession. That makes sense, yet I'm personally involved – I need to dodge colds no matter what as my symptoms are harsher than most. There's no doctor's note to prove it, but I firmly believe it. My illnesses drag on. 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 that signal an oncoming cold, either kick me out of the room or clear the room themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my teammates behind the scenes learned to recognize the signals. “Earpieces out!” the director would shout to everyone to avoid auditory overload, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, I could go on and on. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mother recommends … they help briefly until they fail. It's hard to find something more pathetic as a Midlands dialect delivered with no nasal airflow. In other words, it can sound nasal even normally. At least this elicits sympathy, which isn’t always a good thing. During my initial university year, without my mother's home remedies, the cleaning staff at our accommodation took pity on me. “I know exactly what you need, you dear. I'll return shortly.” She was wonderfully sweet, distinctly Irish, and very insistent that I ate the fresh, skinless onion she presented to me. She observed me eating it. Kind soul. It didn't help at all, unfortunately, except for upsetting my stomach and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

So no, I loathe winter illnesses and firmly believe avoiding is superior to treating which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I paid close attention then together with the other artists when the mezzo-soprano walked us through her cold avoidance regime. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she clearly took it all very seriously. She directed us to apply hand sanitiser on the hour, every hour during the cold months from what I gathered plus, there were special precautions required for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she suggested a few applications of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Intense. I appreciated it. Moreover, she mandated a second dose post-event with more spray of the same stuff.

My Experience

I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were drawbacks: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, reacquired, rediscovered, and so on. And that dispiriting moment you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, an acceptable trade-off. And now winter’s upon us again, I'm stocked up with her prevention arsenal. I'm prepared to combat.