I'm the Master of the Common Cold – and I Can Share with You How to Avoid One

Around this period last year, I found myself participating in a broadcast in the company of three performers. Included were a hip-hop artist with Ghanaian roots, a major pop celebrity, and a famous mezzo-soprano. The coldest season was upon us. The night before, I celebrated a close friend's milestone birthday, packed into a local bar's party area somewhere in Surrey. The festivities were fun, but now, simply to make conversation, I questioned how one could prevent getting a cold with many partygoers were contributing to a chorus of sniffles and coughs. Incidentally, what explains the trumpet-like nose blows, while others are quieter? A topic for future discussion.

Their Take by the Singers

When I brought up my evening, these three musicians backstage at the TV studio responded in two ways. To begin with, they edged away from me. Secondly, they started a passionate debate about preventing colds that understandable due to their profession was something of an obsession for them. That makes sense, but I'm also deeply invested – preventing colds is crucial for me because the colds I get are worse than anyone else’s. There's no doctor's note to prove it, yet I'm certain it's factual. My colds last longer. My nose is more blocked, my throat is scratchier, my coughs are harsher, more persistent and seem infinite. Those at home, familiar with the early throat signs indicating trouble ahead, often shoo me away or leave themselves. When I worked as a sports broadcaster, my poor colleagues in the studio gallery became familiar with the indicators. “Earpieces out!” the producer would yell to the staff before I deafened them all, damaging their headset equipment.

Handling Stuffy Noses

As for my blocked noses, don’t start me. Nasal sprays, decongestants, including the intense vapor from heated brandy my mum prescribes … they provide temporary relief before giving up. It's hard to find something more pathetic than a Brummie tone uttered with blocked nasal passages. That is, it's somewhat nasal on a good day. Fortunately, this often brings compassion, 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 know exactly what you need, you unfortunate soul. I’ll be back in a minute.” She was very lovely, very Irish, and very insistent that I ate the uncooked, peeled onion she presented to me. She stood and watched me do so. Kind soul. No improvement resulted, unfortunately, apart from sending my guts into raptures and leaving my breath foul.

The Vocalist’s Prevention Strategy

So no, I hate colds and am convinced prevention beats cure which onion-based or otherwise, don’t work. I focused carefully alongside my colleagues while she explained her health practices. With seasonal gigs on the schedule, she was highly committed. She instructed us to sanitize hands regularly during the cold months as far as I could deduce plus, specific measures were necessary during festivities. Before any event, she suggested a few applications of a nasal spray up each nostril – regardless of symptoms. Drastic. I like it. And, get this, she mandated a second dose after the party with another couple of squirts of the solution.

What Happened Next

I was in. And I have to say I didn't sniffle all winter. There were downsides: the countless bottles of First Defence I bought, lost, reacquired, rediscovered, and more. And that dispiriting moment when you discover you've crushed the hand sanitizer kept in your jeans and it's oozing out. Still, a small cost for the benefit. As the cold season approaches once more, I'm stocked up with the mezzo-soprano’s recommended ordnance. I'm prepared to combat.