Brand new wor­ries

Sunday Star-Times - Sunday Magazine - - NEWS -

Re­cently I watched some­thing on TV about a war-torn na­tion and the daily atroc­i­ties in one par­tic­u­lar bombed-out, dec­i­mated city. My heart went out to the cit­i­zens, but the truth is I didn’t re­ally break a sweat un­til what was sup­posed to be the uplift­ing part of the pro­gramme. That was when they showed the re­porter in an un­der­ground se­ries of poky lit­tle tun­nels where peo­ple had fash­ioned din­ing ta­bles and cosy can­dlelit bed­rooms – an in­ge­nious means of sur­vival, but my idea of hell. I’m kind of a claus­tro­pho­bic. A late life one. My first freak-out hap­pened at age 40 when I started dream­ing that I was trapped in boats un­der­wa­ter (in the Hong Kong har­bour if you’re into hear­ing the de­tails of peo­ple’s dreams, which no one is) or in tight lit­tle stair­wells in medieval cas­tles.

The late on­set of this seemed strange, but ap­par­ently de­vel­op­ing brand new pho­bias is just one more awe­some thing that can hap­pen in your 40s and be­yond. For Adam Dud­ding, it was heights.

You can read about that on page 14.

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