Not quite a jungle, not quite only in the rocks n stuff either but around my belly seems to be the rumbliest place after those earthquake/ tremors t’other day. Allow me to invigorate you with a tale as old as time (sort of) I donned me road slappers and me shorts, emptied everything from any pockets I may have had and went for a run. You, a run. I haven’t been underwater for a week or so after me last deep dive when me ear decided to wind me up. So I relented and jogged. AirPods in and off.
As I swept/ swooshed/ staggered by a lively tall glass walled building, I noticed the top most panes wobble… ‘how odd’ I thought. It was then that I noticed the crowd of gorkers beneath the perilous glass all pointing up and wondering what was happening. I had the initial thought that I was a fat fuck and the gods had made the ground shake at my feeble efforts to stay fit.
Carrying on jogging with scant thought to what was going on, I reached the dive center and was accosted by one of the guys asking me if I had felt said tremor. Still oblivious to this natural way of things I said ‘nooooo’ it wasn’t until he told me he was under water with buzzing in his ears and watched bubbles rise up from the sand that I understood we were on top of a fault. I hurriedly went into the dive shop… with walls of glass and the second one struck. Windows rattled and things moved. I knew I wasn’t this fat. So yeah, the next day I shat meself. Earthquakes and arseholes..
Dec247h 
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