I admit to several major fears.
I don’t like spiders. I particularly don’t like spiders when you are standing naked under the shower shampooing your hair, and one of those eight legged hairy arachnids is sitting on the shower curtain spying on you. You know, the ones that follow you with their eyes and can jump at any moment. I must apologise to those house guests who have witnessed my naked, screaming self retreat into other, safer, parts of the household.
Visits to the Dentist are another thing I really don’t enjoy. I have a superior Gag Reflex and refuse to open my mouth when Dentists need to probe the interior of my mouth.
Thankfully, I have the ability to face these fears and am more than capable to suck any spiders in my way up the vacuum cleaner .
Dentists. If a glass of Rum and Milk before bed doesn’t allow eight hours solid sleep then I do find the intestinal fortitude to visit the Dentist. It may not be fun, but I can rally enough courage to make an appointment. I may burst into tears when I get to the Dental surgery but I get there, okay.
And then there are phobias. Phobias are totally different to being merely fearful of something. According to Wikipedia , “ a phobia is a type of anxiety disorder, defined by a persistent fear of an object or situation.The phobia typically results in a rapid onset of fear and is present for more than six months.The affected person will go to great lengths to avoid the situation or object, typically to a degree greater than the actual danger posed.If the feared object or situation cannot be avoided, the affected person will have significant distress. Typically onset is around the age of 10 to 17 years of age.”
I suffer a Seaweed phobia. Terrified of the stuff and always have been. For the daughter of a Surf Life Saver who learnt to swim at Sydney’s foremost beach at Bondi this is not a good thing.
On my latest fishing excursion I was reminded that although I can can catch fish, gut fish, clean, scale and fillet fish, if there is seaweed in attendance, my skills are invalidated.
And I lay the blame squarely on John ( Duke) Wayne.
When I was a child, back in the days of black and white TV, we would watch the Friday night movie as a family. A box of Fantail lollies to share, knee rugs on chilly nights, and usually a cat or dog, or both, on our laps demanding attention.
One of those movies, a 1942 black and white, crippled me for life. Reap The Wild Wind starred Susan Hayward, Ray Milland, and a very young John Wayne. Always a family favourite the Duke played a part in the salvage business thriving on the lost cargo of wrecked ships. This movie contained all the usual suspects : a beautiful and busty female, the suspicion of foul play, and a gorgeous 6 foot 4 John Wayne. ( Aside : I have also always blamed my personal preference for tall men on Wayne).
Bottom line, the Duke ends up getting killed by a giant squid on the ocean floor.
I repeat : John Wayne, six foot four, gets taken by a giant squid. Gone. Dead. Finito.
And this little black duck has never, ever, trusted seaweed in her life since in case there is a giant squid lying in wait…..lurking in the shallows…..
Thankyou, Hollywood, although I don’t have any issues with the occasional meal of Calamari and Chips