Today walking home from a day at uni, I found myself suddenly walking faster and faster. No I wasn't late, no it wasn't dark. It was purely because I could hear footsteps of a man walking close behind me.

I know it would be naive to think that the streets of Birmingham are candy-coated and smelling of daisies but I couldn't help feeling incredibly stupid when the man carried on along the main road as I turned off on to my road. I remember in the first term of first year, I frequently took taxis home alone at ungodly hours, not batting an eyelid as I stepped into the pre-ordered cab and calling out a cheery hello to the driver.

Maybe it was because of my parents' anxious warnings since I moved away to far away university of rapists, guns, drugs, muggings and worse that I developed this perhaps unwarrented fear of solitude. Maybe it is because I hear story after story of murderers, kidnappers and general madmen in local and national news. Either way, I can't help but pick up my pace when I walk past lone walkers on desserted roads. I don't make eye contact with other people as I cross paths with them once the sun sets.

I laugh at myself for my distrust sometimes. One night-time visit to a friend's house made my heart race just 5 minutes into my journey as I saw the approaching figure of a hooded heavy-set man. Imagine my horror as he raised his head and looked straight at me. Clenching my fists in anticipation, I hear him saying in a broad Brummie accent, "watch out for the patch of ice at the bottom of the road, it's really slippy." All I could do was utter a thanks as I exhaled with relief. I was sure to tiptoe around the ice when I came to it.

Call it caution or paranoia...there's a phrase, better safe than sorry. I guess I just gotta find a balance between carelessness and borderline hermitage - it would probably do my blood pressure some good!