Arrest

My biggest fear has always been crowds, the tight press of too many people in one place. This is Ochlophobia apparently. I know it's not Claustrophobia as of the two occasions when I was trapped anywhere neither was particularly harrowing - and I was thankfully rescued from any distress each time by a damsel! Once was in the toilet at a restaurant in Loughton, the second from a gun cupboard in a stately home in Yorkshire (and thereby hangs another tale...)

With me the fear has more to do with the fact it's people who are surrounding me as I also battle with acute shyness, which to this day restricts me in so many ways. Even in an age when technology offers us a remote, anonymous standpoint I still falter. The rise of the mobile phone means nothing to me as I'm afraid to speak or text to anyone. I even find social networking on the web hard work (do people really what to know what I think of their comments and posts?). I made a conscious effort to fight this shyness during my student days but the physical fear of large bodies of people still restricted my life - I was never a big fan of gigs or rallies (and orgies were right out!). In the late eighties I managed only one pilgrimage to Glastonbury and had but one opportunity to shout "Maggie! Maggie! Maggie! Out! Out! Out!" at the Houses of Parliament.

Of course demos did also equal police - a special breed of person intended to create an aura of fear and respect - so I was probably better off out of it. However, I'm surely not the only one who finds it hard to fight irrational, unfounded guilt when suddenly seeing a police car driving behind me. Also I remember being told in school by a visiting policeman that a good indication that someone is lying will be if they scratch their nose. To this day, even when I know I'm telling the truth, when speaking to someone in authority my nose itches unbelievably - (Bewitched-ophobia?)

But one of the most crippling fears I have when in a group of people, including those that I know, is the fear of doing or saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. The inability to speak out when you know the right thing to say or have the solution but are afraid to do so in case of resulting ridicule. However, my greatest example of this has a far more surreal and sinister tint.  

Once, a friend and I, after an evening of over indulgence, became all philosophical and metaphysical. In the haze that followed we discussed the reason for life, existence, space and time - worlds within worlds and angels being pin-heads. Alas the details are lost to me now (I seem to remember something about a doughnut of all things) but we knew we were on the right track as piece after piece fell into place. As the verbal equivalent of a twister grew about us (the special effects for this would be amazing) we came ever closer to the Nirvana-answer until there is was on the tips of our tongues. Yet we we were simultaneously struck dumb by a fear - if we spoke that ultimate truth out loud the Universe would stop! Finally, in a hushed whisper, I spake...


...Nothing happened. The world continued for us and all the people upon it who crowd around me...


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...Or was it a bagel?.


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