'Down there'!

I refer frequently, too frequently some of my regular readers might complain, to 'over there', or 'over here', and even 'just over there' but this, I think, is the first time I have used 'down there' and I do so now with some genuine trepidation. Via the media I read about various catastrophes and whilst I do feel pity for the people involved I have to be honest and admit that it is, so to speak, perfunctory.  However, the fate of those Chilean miners touches me to the quick and I simply cannot get them out of my mind.  The reason is simple, I suffer with chronic claustrophobia and were I in their position I would be a gibbering, sniveling wreck curled up in the corner with the contents of my bowels all around me.  The evidence of their good spirits, as shown on TV, is quite beyond my understanding but my admiration is boundless.

I am not certain when and how my claustrophobia was induced but something caused it because for most of my life I never suffered with it, unlike vertigo which has been with me since I was a child.  I think it might have begun 'over there' during my one and only visit to the USA.  We stayed one night in a modern hotel, something I was not, and still am not, used to.  Thus, I failed to notice that it was impossible to open the sound-proofed, double-glazed windows which were screened at night by immensely thick curtains through which not a photon of light could pass.  I must have gone to sleep before the 'Memsahib' so I didn't notice this light-tight feature.  The bed was actually bigger than my bedroom at home and so, when I suddenly awoke from a dream into a black nothingness I had no idea or remembrance of where I was.  I slowly realised I was in bed and so, like an infant reaching for mum, I instinctively stretched out a hand towards the 'Memsahib' - who wasn't there  - because she was on the other side and you could have fitted a platoon of Guardsmen in the gap between us!  My terror was instantaneous.  I must have let out something rather louder than a whimper because she woke up and put the light on, and slowly I came back down to earth!

I must admit that earlier in my life I did once experience this fear of the pitch black.  It was when, as a young soldier, I was on jungle warfare training in Malaya.  During my first night in the jungle it was my turn for sentry duty.  We had spent most of the late afternoon making our 'bashers', it being imperative to sleep off the ground in the jungle lest several zillion creepy-crawlies pick you up and carry you away, and also cutting down long vines which we tied round trees to act as 'handrails' to mark out pathways, our Gurkha trainers having assured us that once the sun went down it would get very, very dark and those vines would guide us as we moved about.  'Very, very dark' was the understatement of understatements!  I had never experienced pitch blackness like it.  Foolishly, as I carefully walked the 'path' during my 'stag', I let go of the vine and took a few steps into the undergrowth because I heard a noise.  I then turned to retrace my steps - and couldn't find the vine!  Oh God, the sheer, trembling funk reduced me to jelly.  In a panic I stumbled about until I crashed into what I thought was a particular stubborn shrub and an irate voice told me to 'eff off' because I was the second silly sod who had walked into his 'basher'.  He never knew it but I very nearly kissed him, such was my relief!  I realise that fear of the dark, or in my case, fear of pitch black is not exactly the same as claustrophobia but I think it is allied.  Anyway, thereafter I have never liked being locked into any sort of enclosed space.

My sympathy for those miners is heartfelt and only equaled by my admiration for their stoic courage.  I hope, with as much passion as I can raise, that all ends well for them and does so as soon as possible.

 

Comments

[JK]

Not taking anything away from the sheer dreadfulness of the Chilean miner's desparate plight, Obama quickly had the foresight to lend expertise by way of dispatching a NASA team of advisors experienced with extended duration space missions. (The fact NASA seems destined toward such rather than actual space missions, but sufficiently budgeted - I suppose it a more worthy mission than improving the self image of the Muslim community).

But my dear friend, it would appear NASA is unlikely to have the expertise to provide you succor. However I am sincerely concerned with your problems. Perhaps your cousins can do the next best thing and have Obama dispatched on AirForce One to your bedside and read you to sleep?

[David Duff]

The man has the eloquence of a speak your weight machine!

[JK]

Well, he puts me to sleep if a speech comes on at half past noon.

And you should Sir, well know the sorts of hours I keep.