Bridges and the dark
Two (and I know where they come from):
Bridges. I’m utterly terrified when crossing bridges. If it’s a footbridge, I have the urge to crawl on my hands and knees, so as to not get knocked off. Driving across them makes me break out in a sweat. The wife thinks it’s hilarious. Whenever we need to head back to Liverpool from Mancland, I always engineer a stop at a mate’s in Huyton, so I can go along the M62, rather than the M56 and have to cross the Widnes – Runcorn bridge. Which is where this phobia came from. When I was a kid, I had a recurring nightmare where I was on said Widnes – Runcorn Bridge and there was a car coming towards me, leaving me no choice but to jump off the bridge, rather than get run over. I stopped having this nightmare about 25 years ago but still shit it when I have to cross a bridge.

The dark. In very specific situations. Either getting from my car to the house or getting from my house into the car. I have a proper panic most times I have to get into my car at night (though only when it’s parked outside my house, it doesn’t bother me if it’s in the street or a carpark), I actually end up backing the car off the drive with no lights on, no seatbelt on and my wife only halfway into the car. Do you know why? Night Of The Living Dead, “they’re coming to get you Barbara”, Johnny has the keys and all that – first horror film I ever saw, when I was about 8. Love the … Of The Dead films, they scare the shite out of me and the first one has never left me.
(ScousersPet, Mon 14 Apr 2008, 11:35, Reply)