SUSAN CALMAN

She was already afraid of spiders, clowns and even raisins in cakes – but then our columnist discovered an even bigger nemesis

is facing her fears

Fear is a strange emotion, isn’t it? Sometimes it’s the irrational nature of it that’s the most surprising thing. For years, I was frightened of raisins, probably because of my dad’s predilection for calling a fruit slice a dead fly cemetery. So, I would approach a plain scone as if it was a grenade, just in case a rogue raisin had dropped into the mix to terrify me. Some fears are logical, of course. Flying in an aeroplane is, in essence, a bizarre thing to do; spiders do look a tad unusual; and, let’s be honest, some clowns are scary. What’s more interesting to me are the fears that come as a surprise. Because they are a whole new dimension of hell.

Recently, while filming a television show, I was asked the question, ‘Do you like rollercoasters?’ I answered truthfully: ‘I don’t know.’ I had never been on a rollercoaster or enjoyed time at a theme park so, unlike raisins, which I knew were evil, any concerns I had came from a point of ignorance. Not that I didn’t have initial, reasonable concerns. I know what a rollercoaster is; that it goes fast and high and up and down. All things that seemed rather excessive to me, a woman who enjoys a slow pace of life. And, of course, I knew that more often than not, while ‘enjoying’ a rollercoaster, people tend to scream. Generally, I try to avoid screaming in my day-to-day life, unless prompted by seeing Helen Mirren in real life (apologies in advance to the Dame in case that ever actually happens).

I like to consider myself brave, though, so I agreed to try out the rides. The first one I went on was categorised as a ‘child’s ride’. I thought, in my ignorance, that it would be fine. No one would create a horrific ride for a child, would they? As I sat waiting for it to move, I started to feel it. The fear. The all-encompassing feeling of dread spreading through my stomach. I was strapped into the ride, and I couldn’t leave.

I started to mutter, ‘I don’t want to do this; I don’t want to do this.’ It shot off like a rocket, and I hated every second of it.

Yes, it probably wasn’t the fastest, or most dangerous, or most loop-the-loopiest, but I was terrified. The ride finished and I wobbled off. Then, the next day, I was asked to go on another ride, and I found myself in a curious state. I’d just discovered a brand-new fear, but as a rational 46-year-old, I tried to talk myself round. Perhaps if I just went for it straight away, I would learn to enjoy it? Confront the demon, so to speak.

And so, I went on a log flume. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Like you’ve just popped on to a little log and drifted down a stream. That isn’t what happens. You get cranked up to the top of a hill, left for a moment to experience absolute gut-wrenching horror, then dropped. This time, I was muttering, ‘Why are you making me do this? I’m going to die.’ And it was awful. As I stumbled off, I was determined never to set foot in a theme park again.

Then, on the final day, I was told there was one more rollercoaster to try and it was crucial for the show. I never like to let anyone down, so I started to think of a way to try to conquer my fear. Perhaps preparation was the key.

I found a video of the ride on the internet and obsessively tried to memorise every turn and every dip, because perhaps knowing what was to come would help? As it clanked up the first hill, I realised

I had made a huge mistake. Knowing what was about to come just made things worse.

Finding out that there are new fears to develop in life is, in a way, a good thing. It means I tried something new and stepped out of my comfort zone. But the best thing about being frightened when you are older is that you have a wonderful gift; the gift of saying no. If life is a rollercoaster, I don’t want to ride it. Ever. I know my limits. In fact, if I really want to scream, I’ll just have a fruit scone.

It shot off like a rocket, and I hated every second of it