I'm not going to tell anyone my greatest fear, but it's not the Bluebirds losing at Wembley to Swansea City.
As a child , it was undoubtedly the dentist's surgery. Every visit there was horrific and I'm seemed to go far too often (no-one warned you about sweets then!). So much so, that one time I refused to open my mouth. They used to give tiny sweets to try to placate you, but nothing would unlock my jaw that time; until they brought in the 'heavy' in the form of a dentist straight out of the film 'Marathon Man', who yelled at me. My mouth shot open, but the phobia worsened.
In those days there was no local anathesthetic and extraction by gas was even more akin to Medieval torture techniques. The building itself didn't help, as it was an ancient converted hotel on the front at Aberystwyth. There was an old-fashioned lift with an exposed shaft, modelled on the mining variety.
The noise of drilling and stifled cries would echo down this shaft, reverberating through the rickety scaffolding of my young bones. Even before we reached the waiting-room I was a blubbering blob of sickly blancmange, with skin that could be easily punctured by any of the many weapons ready on the dentist's tray.
Without painkillers, drilling into raw nerves was excrutiating agony. I would grip the chair, sweating and vowing one day to take revenge on the entire dental profession, who all seemed sadists.
The gas attack was almost as unbearable. You were 'put under' for an extraction and came round , dazed and confused, standing over a sink with blood spewing from your mouth in an apparently unstoppable flow. Even years later in Merthyr, I believe I came close to death having swallowed too much novocaine.
For many years now I've attended the same dentist, know him well and trust him. The fear has gone away and a visit to the hygienist is much worse, with all that scraping and scratching.
I'm conscious that others aren't lucky enough to overcome phobias. My wife has a phobia of cats which prevents her from being in the same house as one. As a baby in Belfast, I'm sure a fierce feline jumped into her pram and scrabbed her tiny face.
This was unfortunate one time when we decided to rescue an emaciated kitten on a journey past Pontsarn, north of Merthyr. My older daughter spotted the sad-looking creature by the roadside, nowhere near any habitation.
I scooped it up and brought it into the car and my wife drove off. It then managed to break free from my clutches and my wife almost veered into a hedge in panic. She braked abruptly, saying something like - 'It's your choice, the cat or me!' Despite my daughter's pleas, we had to release the kitten down the road where there were houses.
Several of my family have a fear of flying. I put this down to flights to and from Dublin on a cut-price airline overe a decade ago. I think the plane was operated by elastic bands and made of balsa wood, much like those many kits my brother made when I was young.
These thoughts arose as a result of attending the Cwrs Haf in Glamorgan University last week. One inspirational tutor used toys and balls to get us using 'hwn' and 'hon'. One woman refused point-blank to handle a tennis-ball because her fear of it. I've heard of a fear of buttons and even pears, but not come across this........is it Henmanophobia?
The next day we had a task where we had to use verbs like 'gwybod', 'dyfalu', 'credu' and 'meddwl' followed by 'taw' to explain various obscure phobias written in English on cards. I had 'hedonophobia' and managed to guess right. Obtuse ones like 'onomatophobia' emerged, and I wonder if there are others such as 'alliterophobia' and 'assonophobia'!
In the end, most were probably coined by Thomas Hardy, who once came across a neologism which confounded him. He investigated it, only to find that he was quoted as the only source!
INT GOIN OUT NO MORE!
I int goin out no more.
It int worth the risk.
This bloke ee got mugged in Merthyr
an it wuz on'y 8 in-a mornin!
I ewsed t travel t Cardiff on-a bus
till this driver on-a News
runs inta somebuddy's ouse,
loadsa passengers woz urt.
Int gonna visit my bro in London,
too many knifin's an yew bet
Al Quaeda will pull off a big one
now tha they ad Bin Laden.
Cancelled my oliday t Tenerife
arfta tha pooer woman got killed ,
ad er ead chopped off in a soopermarkit ;
ee come out carryin it like a shoppin bag!
Bin thinkin o all them Pit Bull attacks
an tha girl struck by lightnin........
mind, she woz in er own ome.
Think I'll jest stay in bed an moan.
As a child , it was undoubtedly the dentist's surgery. Every visit there was horrific and I'm seemed to go far too often (no-one warned you about sweets then!). So much so, that one time I refused to open my mouth. They used to give tiny sweets to try to placate you, but nothing would unlock my jaw that time; until they brought in the 'heavy' in the form of a dentist straight out of the film 'Marathon Man', who yelled at me. My mouth shot open, but the phobia worsened.
In those days there was no local anathesthetic and extraction by gas was even more akin to Medieval torture techniques. The building itself didn't help, as it was an ancient converted hotel on the front at Aberystwyth. There was an old-fashioned lift with an exposed shaft, modelled on the mining variety.
The noise of drilling and stifled cries would echo down this shaft, reverberating through the rickety scaffolding of my young bones. Even before we reached the waiting-room I was a blubbering blob of sickly blancmange, with skin that could be easily punctured by any of the many weapons ready on the dentist's tray.
Without painkillers, drilling into raw nerves was excrutiating agony. I would grip the chair, sweating and vowing one day to take revenge on the entire dental profession, who all seemed sadists.
The gas attack was almost as unbearable. You were 'put under' for an extraction and came round , dazed and confused, standing over a sink with blood spewing from your mouth in an apparently unstoppable flow. Even years later in Merthyr, I believe I came close to death having swallowed too much novocaine.
For many years now I've attended the same dentist, know him well and trust him. The fear has gone away and a visit to the hygienist is much worse, with all that scraping and scratching.
I'm conscious that others aren't lucky enough to overcome phobias. My wife has a phobia of cats which prevents her from being in the same house as one. As a baby in Belfast, I'm sure a fierce feline jumped into her pram and scrabbed her tiny face.
This was unfortunate one time when we decided to rescue an emaciated kitten on a journey past Pontsarn, north of Merthyr. My older daughter spotted the sad-looking creature by the roadside, nowhere near any habitation.
I scooped it up and brought it into the car and my wife drove off. It then managed to break free from my clutches and my wife almost veered into a hedge in panic. She braked abruptly, saying something like - 'It's your choice, the cat or me!' Despite my daughter's pleas, we had to release the kitten down the road where there were houses.
Several of my family have a fear of flying. I put this down to flights to and from Dublin on a cut-price airline overe a decade ago. I think the plane was operated by elastic bands and made of balsa wood, much like those many kits my brother made when I was young.
These thoughts arose as a result of attending the Cwrs Haf in Glamorgan University last week. One inspirational tutor used toys and balls to get us using 'hwn' and 'hon'. One woman refused point-blank to handle a tennis-ball because her fear of it. I've heard of a fear of buttons and even pears, but not come across this........is it Henmanophobia?
The next day we had a task where we had to use verbs like 'gwybod', 'dyfalu', 'credu' and 'meddwl' followed by 'taw' to explain various obscure phobias written in English on cards. I had 'hedonophobia' and managed to guess right. Obtuse ones like 'onomatophobia' emerged, and I wonder if there are others such as 'alliterophobia' and 'assonophobia'!
In the end, most were probably coined by Thomas Hardy, who once came across a neologism which confounded him. He investigated it, only to find that he was quoted as the only source!
INT GOIN OUT NO MORE!
I int goin out no more.
It int worth the risk.
This bloke ee got mugged in Merthyr
an it wuz on'y 8 in-a mornin!
I ewsed t travel t Cardiff on-a bus
till this driver on-a News
runs inta somebuddy's ouse,
loadsa passengers woz urt.
Int gonna visit my bro in London,
too many knifin's an yew bet
Al Quaeda will pull off a big one
now tha they ad Bin Laden.
Cancelled my oliday t Tenerife
arfta tha pooer woman got killed ,
ad er ead chopped off in a soopermarkit ;
ee come out carryin it like a shoppin bag!
Bin thinkin o all them Pit Bull attacks
an tha girl struck by lightnin........
mind, she woz in er own ome.
Think I'll jest stay in bed an moan.
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