Stop Clowning Around

What’s your favourite phobia? Spiders? Heights? How about a human being in big shoes with a red nose and an unceasing capacity to fall over and laugh uproariously? If you’re feeling nervous already, you’re not alone. Fear of clowns, or coulrophobia to give its official name, is very common – more common, even, than fear of heights. 

I was being shown round an office recently and for reasons unknown there was a small puppet clown on a filing cabinet who would shriek hysterically whenever someone passed by. It was truly horrible (and don’t get me started on how creepy puppets are – ventriloquists’ dummies might be my number one phobia). The office manager barely noticed this little monster’s existence and continued to sit at her desk looking bored while the gentleman in charge of the tour seemed to be at pains to point out how it worked. He even ran off to get more batteries. I stood very still and tried to ignore the creature’s staring eyes and manic grin, jittery that it might cackle and jump up at any moment. I remain unconvinced about my reasons for being there (a freelance job that didn’t work out, I’ll blame the clown) and haven’t set foot in it since.


Surely it’s all just a bit of fun? Laughter is the best medicine, after all, but science has a lot to say about this. Researchers at the University of South Wales asked hundreds of people to fill in a questionnaire about this odd fear and came up with several identifying factors. It turns out that clowns’ exaggerated movements are unpredictable, so we feel unnerved in their presence. Then there’s the makeup. It masks emotional cues and makes them look slightly inhuman – the ‘uncanny valley’ fear response when something is almost, but not quite, human. A classic case of fear-inducement if you ask me. And the big shoes and overly demonstrative acting and terrible jokes? Fearful in another way. Just stop it. It’s all a bit much.

Stephen King was onto something with his seminal work ‘It’. Clowns are terrifying and are probably lying in wait in the sewers to pounce on unsuspecting passersby. If anyone needs me I’ll be in the corner, avoiding all carnivals and children’s parties.

Dream Big

I had a really funny conversation the other day with my friend Colin who had always wanted to own a Jaguar E-Type. No matter how many years passed, his hopes of ownership stayed strong. Then as middle age was starting to approach he finally treated himself to a test drive in the dream machine. Trying to bend down to fit into the front seat was the first sign that all was not going to go well. The steering wheel was pressing against his legs, he couldn’t see out the (tiny) windscreen and the gears were impossible to use. The drive went by in a blur of tension and discomfort, and the noise was unbearable. He finally came to a shaky stop and extracted himself from the small space and shook his head. The dream was dead.

The story rang a bell. Harvey the campervan was our dream travel vehicle for years. He was so cute, blue and bumbling and adorable, and we were so pleased to finally own one of these iconic beauties. But despite the happy smiles and waves from strangers as we trundled along, all too often the journey was pretty fraught. The engine was temperamental, the seats were uncomfortable and when the wind picked up, it was quite honestly terrifying. One fateful day on the motorway a gust of wind actually lifted Harvey up and set him back down again (thankfully in the right lane) but we were terrified. Not long after that we started to look out for a more solid and reliable van – and Hans came into our lives. The wind doesn’t bother him at all and Chris can even stand up straight in the back. 

There’s something about dreams and reality – they don’t tend to match up. We close our eyes and sigh wistfully, but if the real world crashes into the picture it ruins everything. This is quite common, and it probably keeps us safe from disappointment. So why bother even trying to make dreams come true?

But sometimes stepping out of the dream and onto the path can bring incredible reward. Most of you know that five years ago Chris and I fulfilled a lifelong dream to run away in a van for a whole year. Hans carried us safely over hill and dale for sixteen thousand miles to see seventeen countries. And it was amazing. Yes, there were challenges, and it was hard to get going, but in the end I’m so glad we did it. No regrets.

Naysayers be gone, sometimes you can reach for the moon and it stays still long enough for you to hold onto it and bask in its light. What’s your dream?