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This time a year ago, I ended up on a TV programme alongside three vocalists. There was a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a big pop star, and an acclaimed classical singer. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I’d been at an old friend’s 60th birthday, squeezed into a pub's event space in a Surrey location. It was an enjoyable evening, but now, just for something to say, I wondered how one could prevent getting a cold as numerous attendees were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. By the way, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, and some do not? A topic for future discussion.

The Reaction of the Three Performers

At mention of my night out, the group of artists in the waiting area did two things. First, they moved back a bit. Second, they started a passionate debate regarding ways to stay cold-free that understandable due to their profession was a major concern for them. I understand that, but I have skin in this game too – preventing colds is crucial for me since my colds are more severe than others'. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My symptoms persist. I experience worse nasal blockage, my throat is scratchier, my coughing fits are louder, barkier and apparently endless. My family, wise to the couple of quick throat-clearances which herald the coming storm, often shoo me away or evacuate the area. During my time hosting football on TV, my teammates behind the scenes became familiar with the indicators. “Cans off!” the director would shout to his team to avoid auditory overload, overloading their audio gear.

Handling Stuffy Noses

When it comes to congestion, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, even the electric shock of fumes of boiling plum brandy my mum prescribes … they all work for a while before giving up. And there’s nothing as pitiable as the sound of a Birmingham accent uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. 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 felt sorry for me. “I’ve got just the thing for that, you poor thing. I'll return shortly.” She was extremely kind, with a strong Irish accent, and adamant that I consume the uncooked, peeled onion she offered me in bed. She monitored my consumption. Goodness gracious. It didn't help at all, sadly, apart from sending my guts into raptures and creating bad breath.

The Vocalist’s Health Routine

So no, I despise catching colds and am quite sure that prevention is better than the cures that traditional or modern, fail to help. I paid close attention then alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With forthcoming bookings to sing for her supper over Christmas, she clearly took it all very seriously. She commanded us to sanitize hands regularly all winter long as far as I could deduce and, extra steps were needed for social events and gatherings. Ahead of any such engagement, she advised several sprays of Vicks First Defence up each nostril – even if healthy. Extreme. I like it. Moreover, she insisted on following it up later with additional bursts of the product.

The Results

I adopted the method. And I must admit I remained cold-free. It wasn't perfect: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, misplaced, repurchased, rediscovered, etc. Plus the frustrating time you realise you’ve sat on the little vessel of hand gel kept in your jeans and it’s now splurging everywhere. However, an acceptable trade-off. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the singer's suggested supplies. I'm prepared to combat.