HELP, I'm married to a man with a recognised phobia. No, it's not a fear of small spaces, heights or spiders. He is terrified of money!

Not that he would shake with fear if we won the lottery. Like me, he would effortlessly ease himself into a life of unbridled luxury. His phobia -- which affects more than 20 per cent of adults -- centres around an inability to handle money.

He is OK with his day-to-day cash -- small amounts of £20 or less -- and unlike many who suffer from so-called 'financial phobia', he does not go out and fritter, spending beyond his means.

What he does suffer from, though, is an aversion to any form of correspondence from the bank, whether its statements or letters about overdrafts. These he will simply pick up and file -- usually under a heap of magazines. Months later, I will stumble upon them and understand why the bank suddenly adopted a rather heavy-handed attitude and sent a large man to take away our video recorder.

When faced with the prospect of managing money, nearly half of sufferers -- identified after research by a university professor -- showed signs of an increased heart rate, more than 10 per cent felt physically ill or dizzy and 17 per cent claim they are paralysed with fear.

My husband suffers from all of those things. I only have to mention the mortgage and his body contorts into some sort of spasm. Then he will mutter something about the children crying and leave the room.

Until very recently we were among the thousands of unlucky people who received red letters warning that the endowment mortgage we were pressured into taking out 12 years ago would not pay off the loan and would leave us with a whopping £14,000 to find.

When I told my husband his eyes glazed over and he twitched weirdly.

Night after night I sat and filled in forms, hoping to redress the situation, during which time my husband accused me of being 'not normal' and an 'accounts anorak' Yet, due to dogged determination on my part we won the case and were compensated. Of course, he was pleased and even apologised for the name-calling.

I must admit, I am not totally free of financial phobia. I wince when I spot a bill on the doormat, I'm on tenterhooks when the car is in for a service (as it was last week -- it's bread and water for us for the next couple of months) and fear the worst when I get a receipt from the cash point.

But the difference between me and my husband -- and, I believe, men and women -- is that he buries his head in the sand while I rip open the envelope and confront the contents.

And sometimes they throw up the odd surprise -- like tax rebates, credit notes from power suppliers, or unexpected cheques from the wills of long-lost relatives (I wish).

My husband and, it appears, many others, need therapy. Never mind all this laying on of hot rocks, sticking in of needles or massaging with so-called essential oils. An evening spent tied to a chair (we have many of those anyway) being made to scrutinise and learn to love bank statements -- that's what is needed.