Everybody has their little fears. A certain friend of mine fears buttons. My son has inherited his dad's fear of geese. And I fear mould. (As well as balloons and dolls, but that's another story.)
I don't know quite what it is about mould that frightens me, but rest assured it absolutely terrifies me. Just one glimpse of white fluff on an abandoned tangerine, and a scream bites at my larynx. Just one bluish tinge on an apple, one pale green furry crust on an abandoned pasta salad...ugh, it's horrible. My fear of mould is so bad that I won't keep anything in the office fridge. (Office fridges are notorious cultivars of the dread fungus, being populated by abandoned sandwiches and weary salads whose diet-tired owners got a better offer and flounced off to the chippy without a second thought.)
In short, I'm pretty scared of the stuff.
So aren't you impressed that I am quietly addicted to How Clean Is Your House? Yes, the finger-wagging sibling of programmes like Supernanny, which purport to impart actual content to the viewer - the ratio of actual content being 2:1 in favour of smug voyeurism. Yes, your kids are bad, and your house is mucky, but bloody hell, look at those ill-disciplined little buggers on the table cavorting in filth an inch thick. Mucky pups. And see how Kim and Aggie, formerly of Good Housekeeping, a magazine which probably tests your fingertips for dust as you peruse it, restore order with only white vinegar and lemon juice to help them. Truly, these women are amazing, vanquishing mould with a withering glance and an insult for the lummox who was slovenly enough to let it grow in the first place. I can only dream that one day I'll be fierce enough to do the same.