Caroline Phillips

Journalism

Caroline Phillips
“Caroline Phillips is a tenacious and skilful writer with a flair for high quality interviewing and a knack for making things work.”

Caroline Phillips

Journalism

All Caroline’s Life articles

‘I tried sensory therapy for my past trauma’

Healthista | 9 Nov 2015

There was that time my house was hit by a tornado when I was at home. And then there was my physically and emotionally abusive childhood, at the hands of my mentally ill mother. Yes, I’m a good subject for trauma therapy. But actually nearly everybody has suffered trauma. You don’t have to be a war veteran or a survivor of incest or of a car crash. Even seemingly benign experiences can be traumatic for some – it depends on your attitude – from that nasty knee surgery to root canal treatment at the dentist or a ride on a roller-coaster.


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This life

YOU Magazine | 7 Dec 2008

Two years ago today,I was lying under my desk, covered in glass, convinced I was about todie as a monstrous black cloud roared across my garden at 100mph, blating branches and bricks into the air like a massive explosion. I’d barely ad time to think Wizard of Oz before the tornado ripped through 150 homes n Kensal Rise, Northwest London, rendering 50 of them uninhabitable in just 2 seconds.

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Worst of times, best of care

The Telegraph | 30 Jun 2008

When her father was taken to hospital last month after a car crash, Caroline Phillips prepared herself for an NHS horror story. What happened was very different.

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My iron woman challenge

Evening Standard | 31 Jul 2007

A WALK around Selfridges was once my idea of aerobic exertion.

Then a few months ago my brain synapses must have got twisted, because I started working out thrice weekly.

I was able to run, say, for 40 minutes without stopping. And I was able to swim gentle lengths of breaststroke.

But when a friend suggested doing a triathlon – that’s swimming outdoors, biking and running over silly distances – I should have checked into rehab.

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In seconds the tornado ripped my world apart

Evening Standard | 12 Dec 2006

My home has always been my sanctuary, a place of exquisite beauty and calm. I read or sit undisturbed on our leather sofa in our family room with its off-white walls, stainless steel and sage-green stone surfaces, and gaze through its wall of sliding glass doors onto our fragrant cream and lavender garden with its climbing roses, ancient apple and pear trees, camellias and jasmine.

All that changed in less than 10 seconds on Thursday when the tornado visited.


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Synch or swim

The Sunday Express | 9 Jun 1996

I am wearing a clothes peg on my nose while impersonating a paraplegic frog. Blowing underwater bubbles, with one leg up, the other bent. Now I’m grappling with the glamorous Travelling Ballet Leg sequence – but looking like a sinking lawnmower. Next I do the Tub Turn, rotating with my knees and feet on the water’s surface, like something that has gone wrong in the launderette. Meanwhile svelte women swim around me with precision, skill and co-ordination.


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Why I’ll keep chasing burglars

Evening Standard | 27 Jan 1992

The other day I chased burglars across west London. This is the second time I have done so. In 1990 there were 174,780 reported burlaries in London (compared with 127,310 in 1980), most of which seemed to happen in my street. It’s the maxim of metropolitan life: “We live in London, so we’re burgled.”

These figures don’t include robberies from persons, muggings, theft and handling of stolen goods including joy riding, beatings on the Tube, or my stolen bicycle. And I am one of many who has decided enough is enough.


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The night I was ambushed in my car – by a 13-year-old with pigtails

Evening Standard | 14 Jul 1990

It was seven o’clock on Tuesday evening when four children attacked me. I’d never met them before, never set eyes on them. I had just parked my car, a geriatric red Volkswagen Golf, in the King’s Road, by the World’s End estate. I was meeting friends, and was wondering whether I’d get a ticket for parking there. Just then, a young girl with pigtails crossed the road, walked between the rear of my vehicle and the one behind it, and delivered a forceful kick to the back of my car followed by smashing her hand on the rear windscreen.

What on earth did she think she was doing, I asked, as I wound down the window.


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Favourite Caroline’s Life articles

Boot camp babes

School House | 21 Mar 2007

The Suzuki style of teaching children music is exhausting and intense, and that’s just for the parents. But the results, as Caroline Phillips found when…

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