Graphophobia

 Graphophobia

First published in Column 8, date unknown, but some time in the 1990s

As we grow older it's easy to develop irrational phobias, or fears of things that the majority of people have no fear of at all.

Fear, courtesy of Robbie Grubbs

Up until recently I had little fear that the subject matter of my column, if written up before the deadline, would turn up in someone else's column. However, now thatMiles Singe* has on at least two occasions unwittingly snaffled my ideas, I could easily become phobic about it.

I haven't come across the correct classification for this kind of phobia, but if it doesn't exist, no doubt some American University will soon make sure it does and give it a proper name. 

My newfound interest in phobias comes from a discovery I made in a reference book I have on my shelf which lists 150,000 facts.  Page 166 lists three closely printed columns of some 100 phobias, most of which I never guessed people would consider naming, let alone having. I suppose our modern world, with its constant "progress," is bound to bring out new fears.

For example, the fear of someone discovering one's hiding place must be something that the writer, Salman Rushdie, has to contend with. Until some Greek wordsmith finds a better choice for this situation we could adopt thanatophobia, the fear of death.

The fear of actually finding Elvis Presley alive and wondering what to do with yourself in such an event, must be something certain Elvis freaks suffer. Or when they finally realise he is dead, the fear of having nothing to live for, must be worse. Perhaps we could temporarily adopt phasmophobia, the fear of ghosts, for the first, and hormephobia, the fear of shock, for the second.

The fear of Bill Birch or Jenny Shipley returning to power could be classified under poinephobia, or the fear of punishment. In fact, the fear of the National party getting back in might be classed as homichlophobia, or fear of fog, or even worse, atephobia, the fear of ruin.

I'm amazed at some of the fears listed: the fear of sitting, (thaasophobia), the fear of standing, (stasiphobia), the fear of trembling (tremophobia) and the fear of blushing, (ereuthrophobia). Politicians, for the most part, plainly do not suffer from any of these phobias.

A religious person has the choice of a fear of hell, (stygiophobia), or the fear of heaven, (ouranophobia).  A person with a dislike of animals can take their choice of ailurophobia or cynophobia - cats and dogs. And talking of cats and dogs, while I can't find anything for the person who's afraid of heavy rain falling on the iron roof, such people might like to extend themselves into being brontophobic or astraphobic. The former has nothing to do with the fear of being endlessly assailed by Jurassic Park spinoffs, nor the latter by out-of-body experiences, but with being afraid of thunder and lightning.

I note that boys can be parthenophobic, (afraid of girls), but girls who can do anything can't be afraid of boys. A musician can be specific and afraid of flutes, (aulophobic), or go wholeheartedly either into musicophobia, or akousticophobia, both of which should self-explanatory.

Most writers, even when someone doesn't pinch their ideas, have periods of logophobia, but it takes some imagination to wonder who would be afraid of feathers, furs, snow, string and skin. And you'd have to be either fairly metaphysically inclined - or a spaceman - to get into the fear of duration, voids, stars or infinity. Enough frivolity - akin to hedonophobia, (the fear of pleasure). Any person worth their fearful self in these days of inclusiveness must subscribe to being pantophobic: having a fear of everything.

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*Miles Singe was a long-standing columnist in both the Star Midweek and the Star Weekender.   He was there before I began writing a column, and continues to this day (3rd July, 97!)  An old soldier, he often wrote about the military; he also enjoyed pretending to be an old soak, as well as someone who maltreated his wife and (grown-up) children. He was likely to be neither.