Chapter Five. Are You Scared yet?

Are you scared yet?

Is there anything there, after we shuffle off this mortal coil? If there is, what is it? Or, if after we have done with the breathing thing, as I suspect, is that it? Do you believe in ghosts or things that go bump in the night? Who ya gonna call? Na Na Na Na Na Na , Nana Nar Na Nar. What giveth you, the shivers my dear?



I am sorry, but it has to be done. To save all our souls. I am about to bring the whole supernatural world crashing down around your lug holes. Things that go bump in the night are usually caused by, wait for it, THE WIND. No. Not that sort. No I mean the stuff, which whistles through the trees. Not the

Y-fronts. You know the thing I mean. Hurricanes. Tornados. Gales and storms. Light breezes that catch under a piece of paper, that then proceeds to scuttle off down the road, just as someone is about to pick it up. Very funny to watch. Try it on your mates with a fake tenner and a piece of fishing line. Guaranteed to raise a chucke or five.



Ghosts, it is said, are presumed to be the spirits of our dearly departed loved ones. Just wandering about waiting for us to see them one last time so they can say “taa raa love” or something like that. There’s the headless horseman, out on his steed, with his sword drawn, ready to whip off your noggin with a swish of his rapier. The Grey or White Lady depending which Tudor house or Inn you are residing at presently. The manacled and shackled nobleman who can’t stop wailing or rattling his chains: “Oh put a blinking sock in it. We are trying to sleep, you noisy inconsiderate dead person. Now bugger off.” Now we even hear of a Gray Cloaked ghost at the new hospital in Derby. There seems to be a thing amongst ghost spotters. They only see in black and white. Why? Maybe the licence for colour ghosts is prohibitively expensive.



I reckon it’s all a load of old cobblers, chuck. Just stories passed down through time, and families, generation after generation to try and scare the how’s your fathers out of the kids. But it makes for good telly and books doesn’t it. Look at “Most Haunted.” (I use the term “good telly” very lightly there.) Makes me laugh though. All those silly girlies screaming and jumping at the slightest sound or faintest of touchs. Still each to there own. “BOO ya buggers”.

For all my sceptisim though, I thought I saw a ghost once, many years ago. It was late at night. Just approaching the witching hour. I was standing at the kitchen sink, doing some of that washing up thing that her Ladyshipness tells me I must do. I looked up and there was an apparition staring back at me. It was the ugliest most hideous creature I have ever seen. Then suddenly,and without warning, it was joined by another, more attractive apparition. Just at that moment I heard a voice in my ear.



“You not finished that washing up yet?”. Bloody reflections.

I love to sit down and watch the goggle box on a Saturday night and have Mr Hammer and his House of Horrors, attempt to get me to jump out of my skin. He hasn’t managed it yet. Nor is he ever likely to. The sceptic in me is far too strong for that. That said, the special effects on modern films, are getting better. Still a long way to go before I get too concerned about Aunty Ethel’s false teeth glass, rattling about at two in the morning (Why does she do that. She isn’t even dead. She’s going to out live us all I tell you. “Just fill your glass yourself Eth” Why does she just not go back to bed, Old people, I dunno).



There is a way to give me a fright. It involves a bar, and a request for me to get the next round in. You will never see me move so fast. I could out run a bloody cheetah. Now, there’s another way. See. Just came to me then. Set a cheetah on me. That ought to scare the crap out of me.



I have been known in the past to be scared by the strangest of things though. For instance. Heights. Not so much the height itself, not even the falling from said high place. But the sudden stop at the bottom would most likely do it. No actually, now that I think about it. The fall would probably do it.



We went to Clacton a few summers ago, where they have a small fair ground on the pier itself. On that pier there is a big wheel. Not a massive one, but big enough. Her Ladyshipness and both the boys thought it would be a great idea to have a go. “Shit!” How do I get out of this without looking like a big blobby yellow scaredy cat? Now I must explain. This big wheel doesn’t utilise the standard swinging chair to take the idiots. Sorry; Punters. It has a circular gondola with a big umberella over it. This is attached to the wheel by a central pivot, with a steering wheel type thing welded to it, so the idiots inside can swivel it round to change the view as they go. I can’t actually remember the whole conversation between me and my two boys, but the end went something like this.



“NO! LEAVE IT ALONE!”



Put me in an aeroplane, different kettle of fish altogether. I can’t wait. I love it. I’ll even go up to the front and give a hand to steer it if they need one. I am a former member of Her Majesty’s Royal Air Force after all. (That’s one of those rare facts I was talking about earlier.) Sitting by the window is great. Love the views. Even the odd jump out of a perfectly serviceable one isn’t a problem. So long as I remember to strap on the right rucksack with the silky white parachute thingy in it, and not the dirty washing. That’s about as close to truly flying that you can actually get, without the wicked witch of the west coming along and turning you into a duck.



A lot of people do have what are called “PHOBIAS”. A strong fear or dislike of something. For instance, the fear of spiders, Arachnophobia (not the fear of anoraks or train spotters,that‘s Ahhhhhhhhhnoracknaphobia). It’s said to be one of the most common fears there are. These sufferers can’t even use the web.

In fact anything ending in “phobia” is meant to be the fear of what ever it is that’s in the title. I suffer from Phobiaphobia. A fear of phobias. Dogphobia must be the fear of dogs then.



Of course they don’t actually call these phobias by a name we would understand, and would know what it is meant to be the fear of, do they? It would make things a lot easier to understand if they did. No, they stick some arty farty Latin word in there to try to confuse us. Who the hell speaks Latin these days? For example do you know what the fear of elephants is called? You can bet two weeks footballers wages it doesn’t have “Elephant” in it. It should be “Elephantaphobia” or “Bigearyphobia” or “Trunkyphobia” or something. If you live in the African bush, you might have it. It would be quite rational too, so not even a real phobia, as there are elephants there, and when they get a move on, they can trample and kill you to death. Tell every one in your tribal village that you have it, and they can let you know when to get up into a tree. Tell them round here in Suffolk, and they will think you are a bit silly in the noggin and walk round all day making trumpeting noises to see how quick you can climb.



Claustrophobia and Agoraphobia are both opposites of the irrational fear of spaces. One has you pooping you knickers if you are confined to a small one, the other if you can’t get into one. I can relate to this. I have what is called “caninepublichousaphobia” It is the irrational fear of the pub being closed when I take the dog for a walk.



In fact, have you noticed, if you tell someone that you have a fear of something, for instance, the previously stated spiders? They will do everything in their power to try and scare you with one. They won’t even need to resort to a tarantula, or even a real spider. The little green top bit from a tomato, if thrown from six or seven feet away will have a very similar effect on said phobic, as the real deal. I can’t actually tell you how I know this to be a fact, but trust me. It was one of the funniest things I have ever witnessed. This probably makes me the worst father in the world. Ask my son.



But hey, if you can’t scare members of your own family, how are you ever going to learn to scare the crap out of a complete stranger?

(No elephants anoraks tomatoes were harmed in the making of this chapter.)